Broken Heroes
by KnightRayne25
Summary: The course of love never did run smooth, especially if that love is a girl with a toxic touch. Still Remy is looking forward to their date at a famous Jazz club in New York. The night was perfect until... more inside.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, locations, and items within the X-Men Universe are the property of Marvel and their original creators. This piece of fiction was written purely as fan entertainment, the author of which intends no copyright infringement, and receives no monetary compensation from its creation.

Summary: The course of love never did run smooth, especially if that love is a girl with a toxic touch. Still Remy is looking forward to their date at a famous jazz club in New York. The night was perfect until the music was replaced by an explosion that leaves the master thief paralyzed. How will Remy coupe with this new twist in his fate and what about the other X-Men? - Loosely based in the X-Men comic book universe, though no specific timeline is recognized. Remy/Rogue romance, Logan/Remy friendship.

* * *

Remy Etienne LeBeau, master thief, gambler, playboy, and X-Man extraordinaire, sucked in a breath of pure masculine approval as he watched the love of his life walk down the Xavier Mansion's main staircase. Remy felt his temperature rise struck, not for the first time, by how wonderful the woman before him was. And tonight, the date they'd chosen for their anniversary, she would be all his.

Rogue was dressed in a classic cocktail dress of royal fuchsia. Remy smiled, the symbolism of her wearing his favorite color, when she much preferred greens, was not lost on him. The rest of the dress was equally as pleasing, as the material hugged the southern girl's athletic frame to utter perfection.

The dress was sleeveless leaving her shoulders and arms bare until they reached the top of smooth satin opera gloves, colored a deep purple to complement the dress, which incased her forearms and long fingered hands. The neckline of the dress was cut into a V to show off the beginning pale raise of her ample cleavage while remaining just this side of respectful. The skirt rode to about mid-thigh, exposing her long muscular legs that ended with her surprisingly dainty feet in heels, whose color matched her gloves and added another inch to her height of five eight.

The careful combination of skin and satin was endlessly tantalizing and set the Cajun's blood boiling. Still as much as he lusted for her body, and what breathing man wouldn't, he loved her face. He'd known plenty of women with great bodies, some arguably better then Rogue's, but no one had her face and the moment his gaze fell on it he couldn't look away.

Rogue had pulled her brown and white striped hair into a loose French twist leaving stray pieces to fall in artful disarray around her heart-shaped face. Her make-up was subtle in a way that enhanced her natural beauty without over powering it. Smoky eye-shadow drew your attention to her sultry emerald eyes. And pale pink lip-gloss emphasis the perfect bow of her mouth; the deadly temptation that Remy constantly had to fight not to give into.

When she was on the second to last step Remy let out a sigh of awe, "Cher, you look très magnifique, un véritable beauté."

Rogue smiled, a blush darkening her cheeks. No matter how many times Remy said things like that it always made her heart beat just a little bit faster. She wanted so badly to give into all the desires the smooth son of the bayou caused in her, but it just wasn't something she could do. So she simply rolled her eyes teasingly, "Bet ya say that ta all the gals."

"Oui," Remy admitted freely giving her a dashing smile as she came to stop before him finally, and took her right hand in his. He bowed his head in a practiced gesture as he brought her fingers a breath away from his lips. His red eyes burning with barely restrained passion as he looked up at her from beneath his long auburn bangs. "Mais you da only femme Remy eva really mean it to."

Rogue's knees went weak as Remy finally dropped his lips to her hand, laying a feather light kiss across her knuckles. She was so transfixed by the feel of his warm breath through the satin of her gloves she didn't notice his other hand moving until she felt something being wrapped around her wrist. Jerking her eyes down her breath caught as she realized the Cajun was fastening a shining bracelet on her arm.

"Oh Remy." Was all Rogue's dazed mind could come up with as she starred at the gift. It was a thin tennis bracelet that was constructed of nothing but pure white diamonds in settings of what looked like white gold.

"You like?" Remy asked with a satisfied grin, her answer already clearly visible in her suddenly damp eyes.

"It's beautiful, surgha." Rogue breathed out as she turned her wrist back and forth causing the gift to dance with brilliant white fire. "Was it expensive?"

Remy stiffened unconsciously at her question; in his experience there were only three reasons a girl asked that. The first reason being because the girl weighed their relationships by how much money was spent on them. The second reason had several possible roots but basically consisted of the girl not liking large amounts of money being spent on them. The third reason was one that typically reserved for people with Remy's special "talents", and it was because the girl wanted to know if the gift was stolen.

Rogue simply wasn't the type of girl who'd ask for the first reason. While she liked expensive things Rogue had an independent streak, stemming from her past when everything was calculated on a bases of debt and ownership, which sometimes made it hard for her to except gifts in general. So it be might be the second reason that prompted the question. Though she was wearing _his colors_ tonight so it was more likely to Remy that it was reason three.

Remy told himself not to worry about it, that it didn't actually matter. After all he openly admitted to being a master thief, and bragged on many occasions he could steal a crown from the head of a king without the man blinking an eye. Still Remy felt a familiar sting of pain and he took a half step back. He maybe a thief but it didn't mean he couldn't be trusted. And whether reason two or three, it was trust that was at the heart of the question.

Remy would never use gifts or anything of the like to try and control someone else. He'd been there too many times himself to put someone else in that position. And while he still plied the tread his père John-Luc had helped him refine, he did it out of habit and he got a rush from the challenge. As it was it had been many years since Remy had stole anything for personal gain.

He had no need to; one, as X-Men all of his expenses were taken care of. Two, even if they weren't, he had money; a lot of money in fact. Remy LeBeau's net worth was easy on par with Professor Xavier's or even the snobbish Warren Worthington the Third. Of course Angel would never believe it if he found out, and the only way that was likely to happen was if Remy ever got the urge to tell him. Really didn't seem likely.

Either way, while the seeds of Remy's wealth had indeed come from some rather nefarious activities the vast majority of it, and all of it since he first joined the X-men, had come from investing in completely legitimate business and technologies stocks. He was a gambler after all and stock options came with bigger pay offs than most hands of poker. If played correctly they could be equally as fun.

As for the thieving, he was extremely picky about which jobs he took now; he'd learned his lessons on that the hard way. And whatever profit he made from them went to various charities under the name of a certain green eyed girl; just another type of gift. One she didn't know about true, but he liked to give her things that he thought would make her happy.

That was why, when he'd seen the simple yet elegant bracelet, he hadn't thought twice of spending the nearly half million dollars it cost to buy it for her. He knew it made her happy; whatever her concerns about it now it had made her happy that first moment she saw it. It was her first reaction that he tried to focus on as he finally opened his mouth to answer her question. "Un petit bit, mais mon cher worth it, non?"

Rogue heard the tension that Remy tried hard to keep from his voice and looked up at him confused. He stood just a little further away than he had earlier, his hands at his sides, and his head bowed eyes completely in shadows as he looked at a spot on the floor next to his feet. He looked both embarrassed and angry; only then did she realize what she asked, and how he must have taken it.

She hadn't meant anything by her words, she really hadn't, they had simply slipped out because she couldn't think of anything else to say. Rogue cursed herself every kind of idiot there was as she closed the distance once more. Biting the edge of her bottom lip she slowly, as if afraid she'd startle him, lifted the hand that held his gift and gently laid it on his cheek. She forced him to look at her again, and she put everything she felt for him into her eyes as she watched him.

No one ever made her feel like Remy did, he drove her crazy in every possible since of the word. She loved the man before her with all of her being, though she found it hard to admit to anyone, no one would ever take his place in her heart. She hoped somehow he saw that even when her words were sloppy. "Ah love the bracelet Remy, thank ya. But Ah didn't get ya anything."

Remy smiled at her, and like that his insecurities and fears where pushed aside, as he moved into her. The line of their bodies almost touching as he placed his hands on the swell of her hips, holding her near him. He bowed his head until his mouth nearly grazed hers, he ached to kiss her yet only his breath touched her skin as he whisper, "Remy have his Rogue, dat be a gift all it own cher."

Rogue blush again, and was about to tell Remy the feeling was mutual when a gruff familiar voice interrupted the moment. "Can't you two do that some place other than the middle of the hall?"

Rogue jumped in shocked surprise of the new addition, her eyes narrowing at Wolverine's deep growling laugh at her response. Gambit however, as smooth as water over glass, simply shifted his body around to wrap an arm around Rogue's waist and pulled her against his side to keep her from attacking the older man as faced him. "Wolverine, you jealous mon ami?"

"Sure Cajun," Logan agreed sarcastically, giving himself a moment to study the couple before him. He couldn't deny it, they looked good together. The New Orleans boy in a simple, yet obviously expensively tailored, black suit and tie his arm wrapped around the Mississippi bell in a seductive little dress.

He sighed inwardly, wondering how long this current affair with each other would last before one or both of them did something stupid to mess it up. Anyone that spent any time with the two southerners could figure out they were meant for each other, maybe even more so then Jean and Scott were. Logan realized it the first time the thief laid eyes on Rogue and though there were times they dated other people, deep down it never changed.

Wolverine's heighten sense of smell had told him the whole story; "chemistry" didn't even begin to describe what those two had. They were truly two halves of the same whole. When they were "together" they smelled whole, strong, and full of life. If they were split up, no matter how they behaved outwardly, they always reminded Logan of wounded animals. Their scent would become broken, weak, and frightened.

Logan thought on occasion to mention it to them, particularly after a few of their nastier break-ups, but always discounted it as not his concern. Still there were other things that involved them that were, "So where you kids off to?"

Rogue opened her mouth to tell the shorter man it was none of his business, but Remy answered before she got the chance. "Remy plan to wine-n-dine mon fillette all night; we goin' to da Blue Note in da city, left da details wit' Stormy."

Things for the X-Men had been hectic recently, which really wasn't new, with renewed anti-mutant sentiments and new more deadly threats popping out of the wood work it still paid to be cautious. Of course Wolverine should have guessed Gambit would know the score, and have his bases covered. The kid was a lot more tuned-in to situations then his cavalier attitude gave away; a trait that both irritated and impressed Logan to no end.

Figuring he'd wasted enough of the pair's time, Logan shrugged as if the boy's answer had meant nothing to him as he pushed away from the wall. "Whatever kid, just be quiet when you come in; don't want you waking me up."

"Make no promises homme." Remy shot back with his trademark smirk as he gently ushered Rogue away from their gruff little teammate.

He didn't slow down, easily lifting Rogue's keys from their hook as he opened the door and lead her out into the night. Remy had almost gotten her all the way to where he'd staged her convertible in the drive before the tension he'd felt running through her body snapped. "Why is it any of Wolverine's business how we spend our time tagether?"

Gambit knew that Rogue wasn't expecting him to answer so he didn't as he opened the passenger door for her. His gallant bow completely lost on his date as she continued to rant as she got into the car. "We're grownups ain't we?"

Remy bit his lip, mentally shaking his head, as he once again refrained from answering. He knew Rogue well enough to know she simply needed to blow off steam; it was just easier to let her do it. Closing her door while she continued to fume about nosy Canadians, he walked around to the driver's side and slide behind the wheel. As he went through the motions of starting the car and putting it into gear, he started slowly counted in his mind.

"What are ya doing?" Rogue finally asked glaring over at Remy as he drove her car down the drive.

"Tweny-four," Remy mumbled under his breath with a considering nod, so not too angry then, before glancing over at bright green eyes with a carefree grin. "It called drivin' cher."

"Ah know what it's called Swamp Rat." Rogue huffed crossing her arms haughtily over her chest. "Why are _ya_ driving _mah_ car?"

"You seemed preoccupied." Gambit replied with a shrug, not pointing out that he'd driven her car on more than one occasion in the past without issue.

Still, Rogue made an attractive display when she was angry and Remy took a moment to enjoy it out of the corner of his eye as he considered his options. One of the things he loved, and hated, most about Rogue was her fiery attitude. He'd never say life with the girl was dull, but tonight he wasn't looking for a fight and he made up his mind.

His red eyes flashed in the shadowed enterer of the car as he glanced back at her with a sigh. "You wan' Remy pull over?"

Rogue met Remy's eyes for the brief second before he turned back to watch where he was going as he pulled on to the highway that would take them to New York. Remy looked suddenly tired to her, and she felt her irritation leave her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a twinge of guilt. He'd spent nearly a month planning this evening and she was ruining it by being neurotic.

"No, Ah'm sorry shurgha." Rogue sighed, frowning as she shook her head. "Ah don't know why Ah let Logan get ta me like that."

Remy did, but pointing it out would only raise painful ghosts for everyone. He didn't want to dwell on the past tonight, he just wanted to be with her in the here and now. With that in mind he sent her a winning smile, taking a hand off the wheel and holding it out for her to take. "Don' worry 'bout it cher, we jus' f'get 'bout da Wolverine and enjoy our night, non?"

"Yeah." Rogue agreed smiling again she eagerly slipped her gloved hand into his. His palm was warm as he wrapped his long fingers around hers possessively, and Rogue leaned back in her seat contentedly.

Remy held Rogue's hand the rest of the drive to the city, releasing it only briefly whenever he forced to shift, enjoying the intimacy of the simple touch. They filled the distance with idle conversation about what wine they would try at the restaurant, to the relative merits of the artists that were suppose to performing. By the time Remy pulled up in front of the club's valet parking the incident at the mansion was forgotten and they were laughing and sending smoldering glances at one another.


	2. Chapter 2

The food was good, the music great, but it was the company that made the evening fantastic in Remy's opinion. After everything that he'd done, and had done to him, there were times it was hard for him to put it away and simply enjoy the moment. But Rogue, the girl who'd "lived" as much or perhaps more than he had, had the amazing ability to switch it off and enjoy herself with a child-like abandon.

"Stuéfiant." The whispered French blended into the music and was carried away but Remy didn't mind.

He smiled behind his wine glass as he sipped at the cool semi-sweet red liquid, content to just watch the girl across from him. She was beautiful; it had been Remy's thought the first time he'd laid eyes on Rogue years prior, and it had never changed. Her green eyes danced in the candlelight from the table, and her pale cheeks were flushed with excitement as she leaned toward the stage eager to catch every note of sound the musicians played.

When the last song of the set ended she clapped along with the rest of the crowd before turning back to Remy. He would have sworn his heart skipped a beat as her impossibly radiant smile struck him full force. He swallowed hard as he carefully sat his glass down so that he wouldn't make a fool of himself by dropping it.

He already had a pretty good idea of her answer but couldn't stop himself from asking, "You havin' a good time cher?"

Rogue looked around the room trying to find the best way to describe how much she was enjoying herself. A way to tell the man across from her what the night meant to her, but every word she could think of seemed to fall short. Sometimes she wished she had Remy's gift for languages, he always seemed to know the perfect words for every situation.

There really wasn't anything about the night that the average person would really consider extraordinary. The Blue Note wasn't the most exclusive club in town, there were a lot of regular people came here to enjoy the music and company. The bracelet was undoubtedly expensive, that was just the way Remy was, but he had a good eye and would have made sure to get the highest quality for whatever the price. Besides that, it made a perfectly ordinary gift choice for an anniversary, which this was supposed to be.

It was the fact that the night was so "normal" that made it anything but. Remy understood how much being normal meant to her and he did his best to give it to her. She felt herself laugh at the irony of how miserably he failed by succeeding. Finally Rogue shook her head giving up trying to find the right words and simply told him the truth. "Ah can't describe it."

"I tink you do très bien." Remy said as he picked up Rogue's hand turning over to gently place a kiss in the center of her palm. She curled her fingers around his kiss as he locked his unique gaze with her's. "Je t'aime, Rogue."

Rogue's heart stopped for a long minute at hearing those words, before beating hard against her chest. She remembered the first time Remy had made that admission, and every time after. She most especially remembered the last time, and the pain that had filled his voice when he'd called out to her. Pain she'd put there with what she said and what she did to him.

Though she regretted her actions almost instantly after she'd done them, by then it had been too late. Even when he'd come back, seemingly from the dead, Rogue hadn't expected they would be able to repair their friendship. As it was it took taken months before they'd been able to be in the same room without the ache of it haunting every second. After that she had just counted herself lucky, and didn't dare to hope for more. Even when Remy admitted that he still wanted her and they'd started dating again she never expected him to utter those words to her again.

Now that he had, Rogue felt tears sting the back of her eyes as her mind went suddenly blank for a response. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out and she closed it again as her eyes went wide with fear. Remy had just told her he loved her and she couldn't talk; after the last time she couldn't imagine what he would think of her lack of response.

She opened her mouth to try again, but whatever words that might have came where cut off by what sounded like the building being torn from it foundation. The room shook violently, pieces of dust and chunks of ceiling tiles fell down as thick black smoke and screams filled the room. As other's ducked or ran for cover the two X-Men surged to their feet instantly ready for action.

Gambit's hand instinctively reached for the playing cards he was never without and drew one into his fingers as string of Carole curses poured from his lips. "One night, jus' one night! Really dat so much to ask?"

Rogue was torn between agreeing with the rather vocal Cajun, and a surge of relief at the unexpected reprieve from having to form a reply to Remy's admission of amour. She shook her head to clear it of uncharitable thoughts, and focused on the matter at hand. "Ah think the explosion came from back stage."

Gambit eyes shot in the direction Rogue indicated and he nodded. The smoke defiantly seemed thicker that way. "I'll check it out; you stay here, and call da X-Men."

"Ya think that is really necessary?" Gambit just looked at her, and Rogue nodded. "Good point."

Still Rogue didn't want to stay behind; she was an X-Man too and perfectly capable of handling herself in a crisis situation. Except that she wasn't exactly dressed to go wadding into a crisis situation type crowd of frightened humans. With her mutant powers all it would take is for someone to accidently brush against her bare shoulder or leg for her to absorb their personality and leave the poor bastard in a coma.

As it stood, Rogue, and everyone else, would be safer if she stayed right where she was. The table Remy had insisted on when they arrived had a low wall on three sides, giving it a hit of seclude privacy in the otherwise large dining area. What had started out as a purely romantic gesture was now a practical means to an end.

It didn't take long for all of Rogue's thoughts to run through her head and for her to make up her mind. She stepped against the wall, out of Gambit's way, and looked up at him with feelings she hadn't been able to put into words. "Be careful Swamp Rat."

Gambit eyes flashed as he turned back to her, his trademark cavalier smirk firmly in place. "Careful is Gambit's middle name cher."

If they were characters in one of Rogue's many romance novels this would be the scene where the dashing hero would pull his lady into his arms and kissed her breathless before entering pitched combat. Of course they weren't just some romantic characters in a story and there would certainly be no kiss. Still Gambit did the next best thing considering their lot in life, and winked at her before moving against the tide of fleeing humanity toward the source of billowing smoke.

Rogue drew her lower lip between her teeth, fighting the urge to follow him despite the possible consequences to the people around her. "_An X-Man has to think of the safety of others over their personal wants and desires."_

Rogue could almost hear Cyclopes' reprimanding tone ringing in her ears, but as big as a tight ass as Summers' could be he was right about things like that. Even so she couldn't help being overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding as she dropped down to retrieve her communicator from her purse that lay under the table. It was as if something were trying to warn Rogue that her life was about to change forever.

The idea frightened her and caused a small tremor in her hand as she depressing the "X" at the center of her round red and gold badge. The tremor moved further up her arm and down the rest of her body as she waited for a response from the mansion. It felt like hours passed before a gruff voice barked a one word answer, "Wolverine."

Something eased in her chest at hearing the Canadian's voice. They'd had their differences lately, if she was honest most of it was her own fault, but there was still no one better to have at your side when things were going to hell then the Wolverine. The night certainly qualified as one of those times in Rogue's opinion, and only managed to give the standard radio response due to years of training. "Wolverine, Rogue here."

Rogue didn't know if there was something in her tone of voice that tipped off the older man to the urgency of the situation or if perhaps he'd heard the commotion behind her over the transmission. Either way he didn't waste any time with questions, just growling out, "The team's on its way."

Rogue nodded her head dumbly at the silent piece of tech in her hand; Logan broke transmission immediately after his last word left his mouth. Knowing him, he probably sent an alert through the house at the same time and everyone would already be rushing to the hanger bay. But the fact that no one would hear her didn't stop her from pleading with the badge in her hand anyway. "Please hurry."


	3. Chapter 3

Smoke burned Gambit's eyes as he moved through a door marked for employees only. Not that there was anyone to stop him, they were too busy trying to get out. "Maybe Gambit should follow der lead non?"

Whatever caused the explosion it didn't seem to be the precursor to an attack. Just bad luck, Gambit shook his head, putting the card he'd been holding at the ready away. He turned to go back, people were finding their own ways out of the damaged club, it was time he got Rogue and did the same.

"Help, someone we need help over here."

"Dat non funny mon ami." Gambit grumbled under his breath as he rolled his eyes ceiling-ward, speaking to whatever entity controlled things like this.

Resigned to his fate he turned, trying to locate the source of the voice. The back stage area of the club was larger than he expected, holding both the kitchen and the rooms for the musicians and their instruments. On top of which it was dark with smoke that was getting worse by the minute. He wondered how there could be so much smoke when he'd yet to see any fire.

"Don' tink 'bout it." He advised himself, still speaking under his breath, even though in the back of his mind he couldn't shake the knowledge that it was the things you didn't see that would kill you. He'd just have to worry about it later, "If der be a la'der."

Gambit gritted his teeth; damn it he needed to focus before his self-defeatist attitude got the better of him. With that in mind he called out to the voice, "Yo der, where you at mon ami?"

"The office, we're in the office." The same voice, a male voice, answered before adding almost franticly, "Megan's hurt, the filing cabinet fell, and I can't move it."

Gambit felt a headache form behind his eyes. He wanted to ask the voice how it expected him to know where in the hell "the office" was. Instead he called back, "Keep talkin', Gambit on da way."

The voice didn't reply and Gambit shook his head as he made his way blindly down the hall. It never failed, when you needed someone to be quite in an emergency they couldn't shut up. When you needed them to make some noise they suddenly turned into fucking church mice.

"Ay!" Gambit called out to the unknown man, coughing on the foul tasting smoke as he did. "What your name homme?"

"W... what?" The man's voice was shaking but it was enough for Gambit to make the necessary course correction.

Turning a slightly to the left, Gambit asked again. "Your name, mon ami. What dey call you?"

"Michael, Mike. My name is Mike." Mike didn't sound too confident about his answer, but the more he talked clearer his voice became. "Hurry please Megan is hurt bad."

"Workin' on it mon ami." Gambit grumbled under his breath, coughing a little more. He ducked his head as low as he could, trying to find cleaner air to breath. This was defiantly one situation that his height was not an advantage. He wanted out of here as much as Mike did.

Gambit was getting close; he thought he could see the outline of a door. He called to Mike again, "Gambit almost der mon ami. What wrong wit' your friend, wit' Megan?"

"She fell." Mike answered and Gambit envisioned strangling the unhelpful man when he finally found him until he spoke again. "I think she hit her head cause she is kind of out of it; the filing cabinet is on her leg and it's too heavy for me to move."

Gambit reached what he guessed to be the office and pushed open the door as the man finished speaking. The room thankfully had less smoke in it then the hall and provided a bit of a reprieve for his aching eyes and lungs. It also allowed him to take in the scene around him with the professional gaze of a man use to dangerous situations.

The devil was in the details, Gambit thought bitterly, and the devil was always waiting for you to make a mistake. The room was moderate in size and the typical paraphernalia you'd expect for a club manager's office; desk, chairs, and the like. Of course it had lost all semblance of order in the explosion; chairs were over turned, papers everywhere, and on the far wall one of the large filing cabinets had falling over pinning a dark haired girl's ankle beneath it.

A thin blonde man Gambit assumed was Mike was kneeling beside the girl holding her half sitting against him. They both turned to stare at him as he entered their eyes too wide; they were in shock. Gambit crossed the room, hands lifted palms out in a none threatening manner; his accent thickening as he pushed his charm out to relax the two humans. "Da name Gambit, I 'ear ta 'elp."

"Thank god you came, I can't get her out."

Gambit nodded, biting the inside of his lip to keep himself from reminding the other man that he'd gotten the memo while he was still in the hall. And Summers said he had no self-control, he thought as he knelt down to get a better look at the problem. "Don' look too bad cher. We get dis off, den we get out o' dis place, oui?"

"Thank you." Megan spoke for the first time, tears shining in dazed yet vividly green eyes.

Gambit looked at her eyes but saw another girl's face; he needed to get this over with so he could get back to Rogue. With that thought in mind he nodded again, and moved around the pair into get the leverage he would need if he hoped to lift the full cabinet. He really wished he had his trench coat with his bo-staff in the pocket, "Den beggars would ride."

"What?" Mike asked blinking up at Gambit confused by the X-Man's strange comment.

"Neva mind homme," Gambit sighed inwardly as he took hold of the offensive piece of office furniture. "Gambit not goin' be able to lift dis fo' long mon ami. Soon as I do, you pull de girl out."

"No problem." Gambit notice Mike's nod was too fast, but he'd worry about it later. Though he hadn't seen any flames yet, the amount of smoke that quickly filling the room told him something was defiantly on fire. Being stuck in a burning building was extremely low of his list of things to do.

"On da count' o' tree. One... two..."

--X-X-X--

Elsewhere a dark figure sat back with a smile watching the scene within the jazz club unfold on a series of monitors. A pale hand casually pressed a button on a panel next to the throne like chair. Static crackled over a speaker for a moment before clearing to a deep ambiguous, "Master?"

"Everything is going to plan." The figure's voice had a regal quality to it that was not degraded for the slight hissing edge on a few of the words. "As soon as the thief is clear, continue with phase two."

"Understood Master."

--X-X-X--

"You should have gotten more details from Rogue Wolverine." Cyclops snapped for the third time since Wolverine alerted the team.

"She used her communicator to call the X-Men in the middle of a date; I guessed it was urgent." Wolverine growled from his seat aboard the Blackbird. "Didn't think I should waste the time."

"But we have no idea what we're flying into." Wolverine was curious how Cyclops managed to sound so damn whinny and condescending all at once. "I don't like going in to a situation blind."

Wolverine closed his eyes, imagining punching his claws through the seat in front of him and into Cyclops' head. Sure the younger man was currently piloting the Bird but that wasn't a big deal. Storm could always take control of the jet from her place as co-pilot and keep them from crashing like a lead balloon. It was do-able.

_"Logan!"_ The Wolverine actually flinched as Phoenix's telepathic reprimanded snapped through his head.

He felt her use her telekinesis to slap him on the back of the head like an errant school boy. They both knew only she could ever really get away with something like that still, he had a reputation to protect. He turned his seat snarling soundlessly across the jet at red head. Thinking along the mental link she'd opened between them Wolverine mentally growled, _"It was just a thought."_

_"It wasn't nice; Scott is just doing his job. He is only worried about Rogue and Gambit."_ Phoenix frowned at him, completely unafraid of his bared teeth, green eyes glazing with tears and distant sadness. _"We all are."_

Wolverine couldn't keep the façade of his anger up, as he turned around again. _"I know Jeannie."_

The ferial little man sighed as he stared out the smooth glass of the Bird's main window. It was the closest thing to a "sorry" that anyone was going to get out of him tonight. Of course he wasn't sorry about his daydreamed violence toward the overgrown, one-eyed, Boy Scout; only that he'd upset Jean.

Logan had accepted some time ago that Jean was in love with and completely devoted to Summers, and him and her would never be anything more than friends. But just because he accepted it didn't mean his feelings for her had changed. He still loved her, he always would, and so for her he would try to make nice with the pompous ass in front of him.

"Rogue sounded in shock, scared, and there were people shouting in the back ground. There was a lot of panic." Wolverine's voice was calm and even, almost detached. It was his "report" tone, the one he used during more than one military debriefing in his lifetime.

He was simply relaying facts, and providing his assessment, no embellishments. "It didn't sound like there was a fight, but something spooked the lot of them. Rogue doesn't scare easy."

Cyclops listened and took what Wolverine said to heart. The older mutant had been a soldier longer than any of the rest of the X-Men had been alive, and tended to be more paranoid about things because of it. Of course you could usually bank on his instincts. So if _The Wolverine_ wasn't preparing for a fight it was almost as good as a guarantee there wasn't going to be one.

Just as Wolverine's assessment eased some of Cyclops' worries, it raised new ones. If he could assume Logan was right about them not flying into a fight, he _knew _he was right about Rogue. Scott could count the number of times the girl had gotten scared on a mission on one hand. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered his options.

Cyclops still wished he had more information, but, "Okay people, we take a defensive approach. Phoenix, see if you can get some kind of reading from Gambit or Rogue; give us a heads up the moment you get something."

"Storm let's get the Blackbird as close to the club's location as we can, but keep a low profile. If people are scared we don't want to make it worse by coming in like a bunch of commandos."

Wolverine rolled his eyes, how exactly did Cyclops expect a group of mutants in brightly colored spandex to keep a low profile? Besides he, at least, _was_ a commando. Walking softly wasn't going to change the fact he was carrying a big stick, or six adamantium coated claws, that were intended for only one thing.

Still, he was a soldier and Slim was in charge, which meant he'd follow orders. Or at least he would, until he decided the situation dictated otherwise. Smirking to himself, Wolverine acknowledged Cyclops' game plan with a grunt. His other teammates did the same, be it more politely, before falling into an anticipatory silence.

Wolverine crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes as he slouched in his seat as far as the four-point harness allowed. To most of his teammates he looked like he was taking a nap. Phoenix glanced over at him, a sad smile touching her beautiful face, she knew the gruff man wasn't as relaxed as he pretended.

Despite what most people, including Logan most of the time, thought he was not just some thoughtless animal that you let loose on a problem. Jean felt the true brilliance of The Wolverine's mind. She knew he was currently running through all of the information he did, and didn't have. She could his thoughts as he calculated over a hundred of different scenarios for what was waiting for them when they reached the Blue Note.

Wolverine knew Phoenix was looking at him, he could feel her bushing the edge of his consciousness, but he didn't so much blink in acknowledgement. He was too busy being irritated at how slow they were moving. The Blackbird had supersonic capabilities that could easily make the eighty plus miles from the mansion to the New York jazz club in about two and a half minutes. That was also about the same about of time it had taken the four of them to get suited up and ready to go.

Five minutes, it would be almost five minutes from the time Rogue called until they time the X-Men would get to her. It didn't seem like a lot when you considered the average response time for most emergency services within the city still ran over six minutes. Even so Wolverine knew that a lot of bad could happen in that amount of time. He'd told Cyclops that they weren't looking at a combat situation, but what he hadn't said was he worried it was something worse.

Rogue wouldn't have gotten rattled over something as simple as a fight, even if she happened to be out numbered. The southern girl had a brawler's passion for a good tussle. She got a rush from it, and with a pain threshold that rivaled his own, there was little Rogue backed down from. And that was what made the hollow sound in her voice all the more disturbing. To his knowledge only one thing, could ever effect Rogue that much, and it was Gambit.


	4. Chapter 4

"Damn flea-bitten-good-fer-nothing Swamp Rat." Rogue growled as she fought down the urge to crush the communicator in her hand to tiny bits. She'd just tried to raise Gambit on the net, and not surprisingly failed to get a response. "Ah swear Ah'm gonna convince Hank to plant one of these in that boy's hide; let's see the Cajun 'forget it' in his room then."

Rogue was tired of waiting around for Gambit to return like some helpless little girl. She wasn't helpless, and now that the club was empty of civilians there was no reason for her to hold back. Getting to her feet she debated what to do. Either she could go outside and wait for Gambit to come out, or follow him backstage and try to find him.

"Ah hate waiting." Rogue said moving without hesitation the general direction she'd seen Gambit go.

Despite the dark and smoke in the room Rogue found a door marked employees only; it was the most logical place Gambit could have disappear to. She pushed it open and choked on the sudden roll of smoke billowing from the space beyond. She turned her head instinctively looking cleaner air to breath.

For some reason as bad as it was in the main room of the club Rogue hadn't considered it would be worse in the back. How was she supposed to find Gambit in all of that? Maybe she would be better off just going outside after all?

Rogue was about to turn around when the same sense of foreboding from earlier took hold of her. It robbed her of reason and made her legs shake as she stepped into the smoke. Her lungs burned with the tainted air but she didn't seem to notice, her thoughts focused on finding Gambit even if it killed her.

--X-X-X--

Gambit followed Mike through a back door of the club with Megan cradled in his arms. Naturally she hadn't been able to put any weight on her ankle once she'd been freed. Couldn't possibly make it too easy on the Cajun could you; Gambit thought bitterly his eyes turned upward again.

The door opened out to an alleyway behind the club and Gambit came to a stop the moment the cool night air touched his skin. Getting out of the building was good, but running around in the middle of the night without knowing what was around was just asking for trouble. With two civilians in tow he just wasn't as inclined to the idea as he might have been otherwise.

He still didn't know what had caused the explosion, and anything could be waiting in the dark. Paranoid? Absolutely, but as Wolverine pointed out on many occasions, it was better to be paranoid then dead. Gambit scanned his surroundings, getting his bearings and looking for anything that seemed out of place.

He wasn't expecting to see anything, certainly not a sign that read "bad guys this way". Of course nothing about this night was going as he expected, and yet he was still surprised. Gambit's eyes flashed as his fingers tingled with the defensive longing to charge something. "Mère de Dieu."

A large portion of the club's wall to his right had been reduced to smoldering ash. Gambit had seen Cyclops' plasma blasts cause similar damage, but the hairs on the back of the cajun's neck stood on end as he realized the hole looked vaguely human shaped. Maybe he'd been wrong to think it wasn't an attack, but where was the thing now? Again he scanned the dark, but saw nothing else.

Gambit was grateful for small favors; there was no way he wanted to tangle with whatever made that hole. Maybe he'd even get lucky this time, but he wasn't going to hold his breath. Shifting his burden more securely in his arms he turned to the left and set off at a jog. "We go dis way."

He didn't have to look to see if Mike was following him as he turned along the edge of the building. The other man's footfalls were loud enough for of him to keep track of the blonde's location. His own, even with the added weight of the girl, ghosted over the pavement and propelled him easily toward the street.

Gambit decided he would leave his two companions across the street from the jazz club, knowing there would already be a crowd gathered. The girl could get her ankle looked to, and he could leave a message with them for Fearless Leader while he went back for Rogue. Of course, there was a possibility his girl was already outside waiting on him, but he kind of doubted it.

All Rogue needed to do was wait until the main room was cleared out before she tried to leave so she wouldn't risk being touched. But then that would be the sensible thing to do, and though Gambit was blindly in love with the southern bell, he wasn't dumb. The odds were much better that instead of coming outside when the room cleared, the stubborn woman would go looking for him in the building. While he hoped for the former, Gambit would bet money on the latter.

He might have just called her of course, if it wasn't for the long standing habit of his to leave his communicator in his room whenever he wasn't in uniform or "on call". It was a habit that he shared with Wolverine, partly because it pissed off Cyclops, but mostly because neither of them liked having their personal lives interrupted. Still after tonight he was seriously considering breaking that habit, but it wouldn't help him now.

He came out of the ally and was grateful that the street was empty as he crossed without looking or slowing his pace. Hands and shouts of the crowd he expected reached out and grabbed him. He let someone one take Megan out of his arms but didn't register anyone in particular as looked over the crowd; the face he was search for wasn't there.

Gambit shook his head with a smirk, mumbling under his breath. "Could make a for'chin on dat girl."

Adjusting his gaze he looked for the blonde he'd come out with, "Ay, Mike."

The man wasn't far and was knelling once more supporting Megan as another man felt the girl's ankle and leg. He didn't know if the new guy had any clue what he was doing or not, but that wasn't his problem. He walked over and put a hand on the blonde's shoulder, "Yo homme, need to ask a favor."

Mike looked up, his eyes were still just a little too wide but the fear was gone, replaced by gratitude. "Oh man sure, anything. We owe you."

"Jus' doin' what is right homme," Gambit waved off the man's thanks pulling a card from his pocket and holding it out to him. "But 'preciate if you could give a message to some people fo' me when dey show."

"Where you going?" Mike asked with a frown as he took the playing card from taller man.

"F'got sumtin inside." Gambit answered as if it was a big deal, ignoring the looks of people who clearly thought he was crazy. "Probably be back fo' dey get here anyway. If non, give dem dat card and tell dem Gambit thought he smelt gas round da back."

There were gasps around him as he finished. Gambit had to fight not to roll his eyes as people backed up or turned and flat out ran away. Of course it was a lie, he hadn't smelled anything but it would let the X-Men know where the trouble started and thin out the crowd in case there was more. Despite the fact the reaction from the people was exactly what he wanted he found it extremely irritating.

It was great watching a train wreck as long as you weren't in the middle of it. No one ever wanted to get involved. Hell that was reason it irritated Gambit, he didn't want to get involved anymore than the rest of them. But that wasn't the hand he'd been dealt, and his ante was already in play.

Now if Mike was just willing to step to the table as well, things would be set. "Once you give dem dat card, you get your gal out o' here and we be squire, est oui?"

Mike swallowed; he wanted to get Megan out of here now, more so if there was a gas leak. Still he felt owed the taller man, "How will I know who to give it too?"

"Dey kind o' hard to miss." Gambit smirked at his blatant understatement as the image of Wolverine in his standard yellow and blue uniform came to mind before he shook it away. He turned back to the club, saluting the other man for his assistance as he called over his shoulder, "Tanks mon ami."

Time was a curious thing to Gambit. It always fascinated him how it seemed to flow, speeding up and slowing down around events in life. There is never enough time to enjoy a moment when things are good, like a spring morning kissing a beautiful girl seemed to end before it gets started. Whereas, when it's bad and the world is trying to tear itself apart, time drags on into eternity.

He knew that in reality only a handful of minutes had passed since the explosion in the club, but it didn't feel that way. Time had slowed down around him, almost as if it had become a river gently floating him along. Slow and easy, the river whispering to him that there was no need to hurry, lulling him into false sense of security. As if he could easily swim to the river's bank before he was taken over a waterfall to be crushed on the rocks below.

Gambit frowned at the empty table where he'd left Rogue as the roof above his head let out a long creaking sound; a warning of the lost structural stability. "Temps c'est une mentant salope."

Spinning around, he thanked his photographic memory as he moved without hesitation through the club to the backrooms. Of course his lungs rebelled the moment he was back in the thick smoke of the hallway; they didn't want to be there and they let him know it. He brought a hand to his chest as he coughed hard enough to make his ribs ach. Shouting for Rogue was not an option in this mess; Gambit dropped his head as low as he could as he moved down the hall.

He hadn't gone far when he suddenly found himself falling forward. His foot caught on something lying across the hall that hadn't been there when he'd come down only moments earlier. However, years of training and skill allowed the acrobatic mutant to turn the momentum of his fall into a graceful somersault. Rotating his hips as he flipped feet over head, he landed in a crouch on the balls of his feet facing the opposite way he'd just been walking.

Gambit's eyebrows came together over burning red eyes as he frowned. He couldn't help wondering if there had been some kind of cosmic memo that had gone out the day of his birth saying his life could never be easy. After all for every one thing that went right for him, six things always seemed to go wrong.

Perfect case in point was the garish red light that winked back at him from what looked like an up-scaled version of the thermal detonator used in The Return of the Jedi. Gambit wasn't sure what sparked making such an odd connection, but for the moment decided to go with it and react accordingly. Pivoting around below the smoke, he used the cleaner air to fill his lungs.

"Rogue get out of here now!"


	5. Chapter 5

For some reason, Phoenix hadn't been able to contact either Rogue or Gambit the entire flight south. However, as the X-Men neared their destination she picked up on the other patrons of the jazz club easily enough. They were panicky, just as Wolverine had said, but it was a jumble of emotions until she brushed the mind of a young couple. "I've got something."

All the occupants of the Blackbird perked up to listen; Cyclops even glanced at his wife over his shoulder for a quick second. "What is it?"

"There seems to have been some kind of explosion in the club." Phoenix focused closer on the blonde man, trying to pull out the details she knew her teammates wanted. "There is no indication what actually caused it, there's no fighting going on."

"What about the Cajun and Rogue?" Wolverine asked, worry for the two southerners hidden under his costmary growl, as he sat straighter. "Can you reach either of them?"

"Not directly, which bothers me," Phoenix admitted with a shake of her head, her brow wrinkling as she pushed harder. "However it appears Gambit was helping people get out of the building."

"Then he is unharmed." Storm said, her soft words holding only the smallest hint of her true affection for the devil-eyed charmer.

"For the moment anyway." Wolverine grumbled irritably, his uneasiness over the situation growing. There was no reason Phoenix shouldn't be picking up on their friends, unless of course something, or someone, was interfering with her powers. Trouble was defiantly brewing; he just hoped they'd get to their teammates before it overflowed.

"I hope so too Wolverine," Phoenix said, responding to his thoughts rather than his words, as she opened her large green eyes and looked directly at the other mutant. "Gambit has gone back inside, and there may just be a gas leak in the building."

Cyclops cursed, Storm prayed, and Wolverine snarled. "You still thinkin' low profile Slim?"

"No Wolverine," The lens of Cyclops' visor glowed for a moment, "I'm really not."

Cyclops chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought over the new information. There was a chance that everything going on was simply a matter of bad luck; a gas leak could easily cause an explosion. There were times bad luck seemed to be all the X-Men had, but a coincidence for them was rare.

Besides, Wolverine wasn't the only one to catch the fact Phoenix hadn't been able to connect with their teammates. Granted Gambit had an extraordinary ability to block telepathic powers when he choice to, but Rogue? All of the reasons that would keep Phoenix out of Rogue's mind could only add up to something bad.

"We are just going to have to play this one by ear." Cyclops said which translated to his team as; loose plan, be ready to move quick.

Wolverine smiled as he flexed his fingers, the backs of his hands tingling, he loved playing things by ear. Still, "Priorities?"

"Civilians," Cyclops answered, "If there is a gas leak, or anything else, we need to make sure the civilians are out of the way; Jean and I will deal with that. Storm, an exposition means there is probably fire, you handle that."

Storm nodded, already assuming that would be her role she had begun her own planning. "Understood."

"And me?" Wolverine asked, also having a pretty good idea what he would be doing.

"Locate Gambit and Rogue, and see what you can see."

Translation; find out what the hell is really going on. Wolverine nodded, "I can do that."

"Then let's do it." Cyclops said as a column of smoke became visible in the jet's window. Adjusting the controls to slow the Blackbird down, he scanned the area for a place to land.

He almost smiled when he noticed the flat rooftop large enough for the massive aircraft to land safely directly across the street. The hundred or so jazz clubs in the city and this one had X-Men assessable parking right next door. That, Cyclops knew, was defiantly not a coincidence.

He once over heard Gambit telling some of the students a story from his checkered past where he explained a master thief always had an escape plan. When he took the Cajun aside later and told him that those kinds of stories where not what the children should be learning. The red-eyed mutant simply sent him a cocky grin and said, "Dat depends what you wan' dem to learn, Mon Captain."

At first Cyclops thought Gambit was just trying to annoy him, a past time the Cajun and Wolverine seemed to share. But the more he thought about it, and about how Gambit operated, he realized that the story had nothing to do with actual theft, but about the need to plan ones actions. Though he tried to act otherwise, Gambit always was always considering the angles and he rarely made a move without some kind of plan.

Whether or not, Gambit expected trouble the thief still had an escape plan, and Cyclops would use it. "Storm."

The white haired woman gave a regal nod, "Turning off main engines."

The next few moments the team's actions where second nature, having performed them so often. While Cyclops and Storm landed the aircraft, Phoenix sent a telepathic message back to the mansion letting Beast know they were getting ready to move. Wolverine got up from his seat and had the back door opening as soon as the landing gear touched concrete.

Four minutes and fifty-two seconds from Rogue's call, and Wolverine was the first off the jet, followed closely by the others. The tall African woman that had once been worshiped as a goddess lived up to her code name as she took to the sky calling up a sudden localized downpour of rain. Phoenix spread her arms as if hugging her remaining teammates and using her powers carried all three of them off the roof to the street below.

Landing in front of the already thinning crowd Phoenix turned and looked directly at a thin blonde man kneeling next to a dark haired girl. "Hello Mike, you have a message for us?"

Mike's eyes nearly came out of their sockets as a gorgeous red-head in a skin tight green and gold jump suit flew out of the sky to address him. He opened his mouth to ask how she knew him, only to shake his head. "He said you would be hard to miss."

The woman smiled reassuringly, and Mike felt himself relax. He held up the playing card, "He just went back inside, said he forgot something, but that I should tell you he smelled gas around back."

"On it." Wolverine said setting off to investigate the Cajun's clue.

"Thank you Mike," Phoenix said as reached out to take the ace of spades the blonde man held out to her. "We should probably get you and your friend... Ahh!"

Phoenix words were cut short as she gripped her temples in pain. The sudden wave of fear that hit her was blinding, and nearly caused her to lose her balance. Cyclops rushed to his wife's side, holding her steady.

"Phoenix, what's wrong?"

The woman didn't say anything, flames dancing around her eyes as she snapped her head toward the club. The screech like that of a giant eagle filled the night as a half-dome of protective flames shot between the people on the street, to include Wolverine, and the Blue Note. The sound of screams and another explosion rocked the night air.

--X-X-X--

Four minutes and fifty-seven seconds after making the call X-Men, Rogue was trying to see anything past the smoke in a room she guessed was a dressing room for the club's band when she heard Gambit shout. "Rogue, get out of here now!"

Later, for years to come, Rogue would sit down at night and think back on the next few seconds. She would wonder why she didn't just listen to Gambit when he told her to leave, his voice filled with unmasked dread. She would try to figure out, if she had run instead of turning back into the hall, would it have made any difference? Of course it would always be speculation, because all she would ever really know is what actually happened.

Hearing Gambit's voice Rogue spine stiffened as she rushed back toward the hall. "Gambit!"

The smoke was too thick to see, but she heard the Cajun curse and then the sound of running feet to her left. She turned her head just as Gambit's long arms wrapped themselves around her waist. He pulled her with him as he kept running, "Move now cher."

Rogue finally did as he said; moving her feet in time with his as he pulled her around a blind corner, but it was too late. There was a long shrill beep, followed by a deafening roar as fire, and heat rushed up behind them. The force of the second explosion's shock wave lifted them both from their feet. She was surprised to hear twin screams of pain and terror as the building collapsed on top of her and Gambit just before the world went black.


	6. Chapter 6

"No!" The shadowy figure shot to his feet, blood red eyes glowing as he watched the explosion he orchestrated engulf the Cajun thief and his useless woman before the feed to his monitors were severed.

"Damn it LeBeau." The damn thief was forever doing things against his plans. It fact it happened so often that the man wondered if it wasn't as accidental as it always seemed. Of course either was, it was still thoroughly annoying, and costly habit.

For a man that professed to be completely without emotion his anger boiled around him as he slammed his fist into one of the blank screens. Sparks flew out of the damaged box as its electric circuits shorted and popped, but it didn't matter. The monitor could be replaced easily enough, but the skills of his lost pray couldn't.

"Damn him." The man said again as he turned and stocked out of the room. Without LeBeau, he would just have to devise a new strategy to get what he needed.

--X-X-X--

Wolverine's roar of frustration and anger was only slightly less loud then the explosion itself had been. He wasn't sure when he'd release his claws but the silvery metal they were coated with glinted as the Phoenix's protective flames evaporated and he spun to face her. The normal blue of his irises had bled back into wolf-like amber as he growled.

Phoenix's lower lip trembled, tears threatening to fall as she looked at her ferial friend, "I had no choice."

Wolverine growled again, but turned away from the girl. Latter, when he gained control and was no longer acting on pure emotion and instinct, he would know she was right. When he was once again Logan would hug her as she cried, and pet her hair as he reassured her that she did the right thing.

But at that moment the man that would do those things was barely more than a phantom in the back of The Wolverine's mind. He didn't hear the sob break free of the red-head as she collapsed against her husband. Nor did he feel the way the Wind Rider's emotions got the best of her, turning air arctic cold freezing the rain into ice.

All he cared about was his friends, his family, inside the smoldering wreckage of the once popular night spot. Running over the debris that littered the street Wolverine didn't slow down as he jumped through a hole the blast had ripped in the front of the building. Once inside he moved into a low crouch, using his heightened senses to scan his surroundings.

A large portion of the roof had collapsed allowing the thick smoke to escape into the night as sleet fell hissing into a handful of small fires. Tables and chairs were broken and scattered around the room as small bits of rubble continued to shift and fall as gravity pulled them down. The room looked like a war zone, and an eerie quiet hung in the air.

Wolverine's growl was low, deep in the back of his throat, to where you felt it rather than actually heard it. He didn't like the quiet. He'd heard more times then he cared to recall. It was cold, an unforgiving; it was the sound of death.

Wolverine shook himself, pushing away the morbid thoughts. Until he saw them for himself, he refused to believe the southern lovers were dead. Standing up he cautiously made his way deeper into the destroyed club.

He didn't bother trying to catch the pairs scent, with everything that was mixed in the atmosphere it would be pointless. One thing he did notice, and would remember for later, was the distinct lack of gas in the air. There was definitely something more sinister going on here then a freak accident.

Something that Gambit had wanted the X-Men to look for in the back of the club, so that is where Wolverine headed. His eyes, like any nocturnal animal, took in the low ambient light and reflected it allowing him to see his surroundings clearly. Like the ripped table clothes, the bent and blackened flatware, and the unbroken crystal wineglass the lay on its side with a small pool of red wine, like blood, in its bowl.

Wolverine paused momentarily, picking up the glass to study it. The back of his mind wondering how it never failed, that the most fragile things seemed to survive the most devastating events. He turned the glass in his hand, until he saw a smug of pale pink lip-gloss on the rim.

Rogue had been wearing pink lip-gloss. Wolverine's lip curled back in a snarl, as he threw the glass against the nearest hard surface, where it shattered into a rain of twinkling crystal. He stocked away, more determined now to find his friends. If a damn glass could make it through the explosion then it should be no problem for two X-Men to do it.

--X-X-X--

Outside the civilian authorities had finally arrived and where setting up road blocks, and issuing minimum safe distance zones. City Works personnel rushed around, horridly shutting off gas lines running under the street to prevent a possible third explosion. In the middle of it all stood three young mutants.

Normally the X-Men would have already left the scene. Superheroes or not, because of what they were the police's reaction to them where somewhat unpredictable. As such they tried to avoid them as often as possible. Tonight though was different, the police seemed to feel it too and made no move to stop them from being there.

Cyclops spoke to the officer in charge, telling him what little they knew, and informing him that he had people inside. "We're willing to help in any way we can, but we'd like to find ours friends; to take them home."

"I understand." The officer, an older man with kind grey eyes, nodded his head. "We can handle things out here, but if you need anything son, just tell me and you got it."

"I appreciate it Lieutenant Dority, but we're fine." Cyclops said gesturing for his wife and Storm to go ahead into the building after Wolverine and the others. He didn't have to look to know both women where already moving, as he held out his hand to the officer.

Lieutenant Dority sighed softly at the surprised look on the young heroes face when he shook his offered hand without hesitation. Though the boy had initiated the gesture, it was clear that he had not expected it to be returned. It was a sad thing, in a sadder time, "I hope things work out for you son."

Cyclops' emotions; anger, satisfaction, hope, and despair warred inside him. Why couldn't this man's actions come at a different time? It truly wasn't fair, and yet the X-Men's field commander had learned a long time ago it never would be.

Afraid his bitterness over that would make it into his voice Cyclops simply nodded, and shook the officer's hand again. Then turning, he walked away from the older man into yet another place that he knew would find its way into his nightmares. Not for the first time in his life, and certainly not for the last, the X-Man cursed the private hell that was his existence.

Inside Storm and Jean were waiting for him. Unlike Wolverine, none of them could see as clearly in the dark, and despite the few fires that stubbornly burned through Storm's rain, most of the club was in shadows. Cyclops frowned, "Okay people let's do this quickly. We don't know how sound this place is anymore and I don't want to waste time. We get Wolverine, and try to find the bodies if we can. But if I give the order to move out, everyone leaves, no matter what, got it?"

The two females nodded, neither of them liking how Cyclops had referred to Gambit and Rogue merely as bodies. Still they knew why he did; he needed the distance that it provided, it was the same reason they used code names on a mission. It allowed them to separate themselves from the situation emotionally, letting them to think logically about what had to be done. The job needed to come first, after it was over, when they were back at the mansion then emotions could return.

"Phoenix find Wolverine, help him look; Storm and I will be up here. First ones to find anything contact the other immediately."

Phoenix nodded, and scanned the building for Wolverines mind. Once she located him, she used her powers to lift herself above the uneven floor and headed to the shadows toward the back. Cyclops watched her go for a moment then turned and started wrenching task of shifting through the closest pile of debris, hoping as much as dreading what he might find beneath it.


	7. Chapter 7

On the far end of the building from the team leader, Wolverine felt Phoenix coming and spun around even before her feet touched the ground again. And though she had seen Wolverine in this state many times in the past, the way his eyes shined in the dark as he snarled at her was enough to force a small gasp from her lips. Without know just how far gone the man inside him was Phoenix didn't move closer, but reached for him with her mind.

_"Logan?"_

Wolverine blinked glowing eyes at her, his expression softening slowly, his adamantium claws slid back into his hands. He let out a rough sigh, "It's alright."

Phoenix visibly relaxed, as the stocky man turned back to his search. "Cyclops says to look for the bodies..."

"They're not dead!" Wolverine snapped over his shoulder, cutting off the red-heads words as bits of dust shook loose from the sound.

He hadn't gone fully animal but he could feel himself just on the edge, and the only thing that kept him back was the thought of his friends. The rest of the X-Men distanced themselves from their emotions when they worked; Wolverine couldn't. He needed the personal connection, the "human" connection, or he would lose control over the beast inside him.

It could be a very fine line at times, but one Wolverine held onto as tightly as he could. More calmly he said again, "They're not dead Jean, and we're going to find them."

Phoenix nodded, as she moved up beside her friend. "How do I help?"

Wolverine wondered for a moment exactly what the girl was asking, but decided not to worry about it. "Have you tried scanning for them again? Maybe whatever was interfering is gone now."

Phoenix frowned trying to figure out why she hadn't thought of doing another scan. After all it was Gambit's intense fear that warned her about the second explosion. If she scanned for their minds, even if they were unconscious, she might be able to locate them just as she had with Wolverine.

If she couldn't locate them, well that would be something to worry about later. "I'll give it a try."

Wolverine watched, unconsciously holding his breath, as the Phoenix closed her eyes and let her mind do the looking. A telepath search a miles faster than a single person could search a foot. Still it seemed like an eternity past before the girl's eyes flashed open again.

"Over there." Phoenix pointed behind and to the right of Wolverine.

Before Wolverine could take a step he felt himself being lifted by Phoenix and dropped next to a wall that had surprisingly stay mostly intact. As soon as he was free form the girl's power Wolverine started to dig into the rubble. He was once more unaware of the rest of the world, and the sounds of Cyclops and Storm scrambling toward them, as he lifted large pieces of broken building and threw them aside.

Phoenix used her telekinesis to aid Wolverines efforts as she pushed her mind out toward her other friends. She told them both mentally that it was going to be okay, and they just needed to hang on. She told them that the X-Men where here and that they would take care of them.

Though they didn't respond directly, she could feel the spark of their consciousness grow a bit brighter. She knew they were both badly hurt, and in desperate need of medical attention if they were going to live, but they weren't giving up. That knowledge calmed some of her worry, as she remembered something Wolverine said a long time ago.

She pushed the memory out to _all_ of her friends as encouragement, _"X-Men don't die so easily."_

Wolverine smiled inwardly at the sound of his gruff voice being repeated in his head. Only Jean would think to send a message like that, and yet it helped him center himself as he drug a large metal door to the side. And considering what met his eyes when he did, it was a good thing. Dropping to his knees, he cursed loudly as he visually assessed his friends' condition.

Gambit and Rogue were laying together, their faces close together as if they would kiss at any moment. There was a good amount of blood matting Rogue's hair to the back of her head. Though, while easily life threatening without treatment, the wound seemed to be the only one she had. The Cajun, with his arm around the girl's waist, his large frame covering her, he had apparently used his body to shield her from the worse of the explosion.

Gambit had several visible bruises and cuts, one neatly bisecting his eyebrow, on his extremely pale face. The back of Gambit's expensive suit was torn and scorched in several places, with the material over one shoulder completely burned away leaving the skin blistered and bleeding. The injury that had the mighty Wolverine's stomach turning though, was the thick piece of metal shrapnel protruding from the kid's lower back.

Gambit's blood was oozing from the wound, to collect in a widening pool of blood on the ground below him. Wolverine ripped off his gloves as he carefully reached down to touch the side of the kid's neck. A thready pulse danced under his finger tips as he turned to look at Phoenix. "We need to get them to the med bay now."

Phoenix said nothing, her eyes once more spitting flame, as she raised her arms her powers engulfing her teammates. Lifting them through the broken roof, she carried them in a visage of a screaming fiery bird into the sky. In a matter of seconds all six X-Men were across the street on the roof beside the Blackbird.

If any of the X-Men where fazed by the Phoenix's overt display of power none of them mentioned it. No orders were issued. No one had to be told how urgent the situation was, as each member of the team once again acted out of second nature.

Storm and Phoenix rushed into the jet to make necessary preparations. Wolverine lifted the critically injured Gambit as carefully as he could, while Cyclops, whose uniform would protect him inadvertent skin contact, took Rogue. The rear most seats of the Blackbird where designed to convert in an emergency to medical beds, which were already set to receive their wounded cargo.

As the two men laid their friends down, and started strapping them in Phoenix closed the rear door and called up to Storm, "They're in."

Storm had only been waiting for those two words as her hands flew over the jet's controls and the vertical thrusters roared to life. As the Blackbird lifted into the air, she sent a single back to the mansion advising them of causalities. While every move was performed in a precise, almost calm manner the weather outside the jet continued howl with the white-haired mutant's pain.

Storm had learned early in life that people you cared for would sometimes get hurt, and sometimes they would die. After all she had only been five when her parents were killed. Her years with the X-Men had only enforced her education. The Weather Witch had come to except such things, and to carry on despite them.

Still, the sounds of coming from behind her made her heart pound and her throat tight with the urge to scream. Storm closed her eyes for a moment, a single tear falling down her cheek, as she prayed for her friends' recovery. Then, with the sheer force of her will, she opened her eyes and blocked out the noise, focusing only on piloting the Blackbird home.


	8. Chapter 8

Everyone that came to The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning was taught classes in self-defense, and basic first aid. For the students at the institute, the classes were as practical courses of study as math or science were at anywhere else. Especially considering how often the mansion came under attack.

Training for the X-Men however, went far beyond the basics. Given the dangers of what they did, each member of the team was taught how to deal, at least in the preliminary stages, with any number of traumatic injuries. Even so, the current situation presented some impressive challenges.

Rogue for one, had absorbed powers that made her nearly invulnerable, because of which getting an IV needle or anything else into her arm was essentially impossible. For the most part it wasn't an issue, since on a good day she could take as much punishment as Wolverine without even flinching. The problem was she didn't share a similar healing factor.

So if she ever did get hurt, like now, there was very little anyone could do, but put a bandage over the area and hope for the best. Of course, Cyclops realized that wasn't going to be an option tonight, as he carefully moved her matted hair back to inspect the wound on the back of her head. And the curse that escaped his lips when he got his first look at it had his compatriots beside him looking up in surprise.

Rogue not only had four inch long gash in her scalp, but her skull had cracked open and soft pinkish grey matter had started to press out of the wound. It sounded strange, but Cyclops realized she was lucky, if she'd been anyone else whatever hit her would have likely taken her head off. Of course if they didn't do anything she would be just as dead.

"Wolverine, I need you over here."

Wolverine gritted his teeth; he was currently trying to pack gauze around the wound on Gambit's back to keep the boy from entirely bleeding out. "Hands a little busy Slim."

Cyclops bit back another curse, as he turned around to take Wolverines place. "I'll take over. Rogue's head injury worst than we thought, and I want you to use your healing to help her."

Wolverine didn't ask for more details then that, as he stepped back a little to let the taller man slide between him and Gambit. Once Cyclops had his hands in the right position, he shifted completely out of the way. But before he could take two steps across the jet floor, Rogue started to convulse.

"Son of a bitch!" Wolverine rushed to the girl, placing his large hands on either side of her head in an attempt to keep her from banging it around even more.

"Wolverine?!" Cyclops turned, fighting the desire to rush back to Rogue's side.

"I've got her," Wolverine growled as he used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves.

Some of the Cajun's blood that was on the glove touched his tongue and he spit it and the glove to the floor. He'd had blood in his mouth before, his own and other peoples, but the fact that it belonged to a friend made his stomach turn. He forced himself not to think about it as he told Cyclops, "You just worry about the boy; I can handle this."

Wolverine knew Rogue hated using her absorption powers unless it was absolutely necessary. It was because, with whatever powers she took from an individual, she also absorbed a portion of their personality, and memories. She often complained to her friends that her head was so full of other people that she felt like there was not enough room for her. Still this was an emergency, and it wasn't like he hadn't shared his powers with her before.

In fact Wolverine was the first person to not only willingly, but knowingly touch her after her powers had manifested. Rogue had recently joined the X-Men, and had just saved the life of his then fiancée's life by stepping in the path of a prolonged laser blast. She'd taken the hit directly in the chest, and she had been dying in his arms when he realized that he could save her. Back then he'd given her a kiss; partly out of gratitude for what she'd done for him, and partly because it was the easiest way to make the contact needed.

Now however, he simply laid his bare hand over her bruised cheek. Wolverine felt the pull of Rogue's powers immediately, his own kicking in just as quickly to counter act the sudden shock of being drained. Sometimes people thought with his ability to heal practically any wound, that he couldn't feel pain. It wasn't true; he felt pain just like the next guy, and he sure as hell didn't enjoy it any more than they did either.

Wolverine could honestly say, having the life sucked out of you through your figure tips hurt like all seven levels of Dante's Inferno at once. His first instinct was to pull away, after all only a mad man would stick his hand into a bon-fire until his skin burned off. Then again, he'd been told more than once he was nuts, and so he sucked in a hissing breath as he forced himself to keep the skin contact.

Besides all he had to do was to hold on long enough for Rogue to siphon off enough of his power to heal her worst injuries. She could recover on her own from the minor bumps and bruises; it was the other stuff he was concerned about. Thankfully, though it certainly felt like an eternity, it only took a few seconds before the girl's eyes flew open and she pushed Wolverine away.

Wolverine staggered back a little, but as always he recovered quickly. Going back to her side he used his gloved hand to catch the girl before she possibly hurt herself on the medical bed's restraints. "Easy Darlin' don't get carried away."

Rogue's eyes weren't entirely focused as she looked up at Wolverine, but he felt her body relax the moment she saw him. Her voice was a weak whisper, "Logan?"

"Yeah it's me." Wolverine confirmed with a nod, "Yer alright, the X-Men got ya and were takin' you home."

Rogue nodded, surprised at how much her head hurt, and how hard it was to keep her eyes open. Rogue tried to look around as she asked, "What about Remy?"

"Got him too, everything is going to be fine." Wolverine told her as he moved between her and the view of the other bed, hoped he hadn't just lied to her. "You took a bad knock on the head though; you should really try to relax, and let us take care of you."

Rogue nodded again, happily closing her eyes, she was so tired. Besides there was no one she trusted more than Wolverine, if he said things would be fine than they would be. She'd just do what he said and let him take care of the rest.

Wolverine waited until Rogue closed her eyes, and she'd slipped into unconsciousness again before he gently turned her head to the side to inspect the wound. Her scalp was still cut but smooth new white bone could be seen beneath it. He sighed, as he reached for some gauze dressings to wrap her head in.

His healing factor would continue to be active in Rogue for a bit, but the girl was still going to have a hell of a headache, and probably be sore when she woke up again. But at least she would live. Which at the moment was more than Wolverine could say for sure about her lover.

"God Scott, Gambit's stopped breathing."


	9. Chapter 9

"We need to turn him." Phoenix said as she started undoing the straps that held Gambit face down on the bed and looked up at her husband. "Help me get him on his side; we need to take some of the weight off his chest."

"We'll roll him toward you, I want to keep him off his right shoulder incase it's more than just burned." Cyclops said as he slid his hands under Gambit's still body and waited for his wife to single.

Phoenix nodded, and Cyclops lifted and rolled the Cajun to his side. As he did Gambit's blood stained dress shirt, which they'd cut down the back, fell off the man's chest. "Jean?"

Phoenix, who was using hand-operated respirator over Gambit's mouth to force air into his lungs, leaned forward to see what had turned her husband so pale. The younger man's abdomen was one large black bruise. "He is bleeding into his abdomen; the shrapnel must have hit one or more of his major organs."

"So what do we do about it?" Wolverine asked as finished bandaging Rogue and went back to help with the Cajun.

Phoenix shook her head, but instead of telling them _I don't know_, she said, "Hang another bag of plasma Scott. Logan, you're going to have to drain the excess."

Wolverine didn't need Phoenix to explain what she meant. He remembered seeing something similar to this back when he was in the army. Excessive build-up of fluid or air inside the body cavity could put too much stress on the heart and lungs. It could effectively crush the life out of a person if the pressure wasn't relieved.

Still, the irony of what he was about to do wasn't lost on the older man as he partly unsheathed one of his claws. Not a minute ago had he been trying to keep blood inside the kid's body and now he was going to let it out. Wolverine felt along the lower edge of Gambit's ribs nearest the bed. The cut he was about to make a lot more delicate than those he usually used his claws for, and he didn't want to take a chance on misjudging the placement.

"You better listen up pretty boy." Wolverine said as he found spot he was looking for and placed the tip of his claw over Gambit's skin. "You still owe me twenty bucks from last week's card game, and if you think I'm going to let you get away with not paying me cause yer dead yer wrong. You might as well save yerself the trouble of me hunting you down in the afterlife and just go ahead and live."

Wolverine made a quick upward motion with his hand as he finished speaking, the razor sharp adamantium open the Cajun's skin like a ripe fruit as dark warm blood flowed onto his hand. Pulling his hand away, he retracted his claw and picked up a handful of gauze. Holding just below the inch long incision he'd just made, he pressed firmly on the boy's stomach.

More blood washed out of Gambit's side, and Wolverine wanted to cringe for him. The kid was lucky he wasn't awake for this, as he'd probably be screaming in pain just from this. Still, as the blood drained down the boy's side, his sensitive ears could hear the Cajun's heartbeat becoming less labored, though his breathing remained the same.

"It's working, a little anyway." Wolverine said as he looked up at Phoenix, locking his gaze with hers. "But I don't know how long it's going to help."

"As long as it gets him to Henry, I'll take it." Cyclops interjected.

Wolverine found himself oddly agreeing with him. Henry McCoy was large blue fuzzy mutant know as The Beast, as well as the X-Men resident genius physician. The big guy had pulled off more miracles in his operating room than the rest of them combined. If anyone could help Gambit, it would be McCoy.

X

Logan was exhausted and covered in blood; the fact he hadn't got to hit anyone to get that way didn't help. The fact that he hadn't got to hit anyone and two of his best friends where laying in the X-Men's medical bay made it worse. The fact that one of those friends may not ever walk out of there again made it nearly unbearable.

"It will be sometime before there is any news, why don't you follow the other's example Logan and get cleaned up." Professor Charles Xavier, the headmaster of the Xavier Institute and founder of the X-Men, turned pale blue eyes up to look at the man leaning against the wall of the infirmary waiting room.

"I want to be here." Logan closed his eyes and sighed, "I want a beer."

A small smile formed on Xavier's lips as he shook his head at the man, "Always the dichotomy Logan?"

"Don't know what yer talking about Chuck." Logan said without opening his eyes.

"No, of course not." Xavier agreed, though his tone called Logan a liar.

Logan could get angry about that, growl and yell at the bald man in the wheelchair beside him. But frankly the professor was right, and he was just too tired to put on the show. "I'm tired Chuck, can we do this another time?"

"And what are we doing?" Xavier asked in the deep soothing father-like tone he had that made you instinctively feel comfortable around him, and want to lay all of your troubles out for him to solve.

Problem was Xavier couldn't solve Logan's troubles. "I'm not in the mood for a therapy session tonight."

"Jean told me what happened at the club."

"Let it go." Logan finally let out a low growl.

"Why won't you let them know the person you really are?"

Logan snorted as he pushed away from the wall. "And who is that exactly?"

"The man that is sick to his core with fear over the safety and health of a man he professes not to like." Xavier answered. "Why must you hide the truth from them? You've worked so hard to prove you are not some animal, and yet you keep hiding those things that do so. I've told you before, your feelings, your caring for others, are not a weakness."

"That's great, but I lost at the club." Logan spun around to face Xavier directly.

"Jean threw up a protective shield around us just before the second explosion hit; she kept everyone on the street safe from flying debris and worse. But all I could think about was how she stopped me from getting inside, from where I wanted to go. I was so angry that I don't even remember unsheathing my claws, before I spun around and growled at her."

"She told me." Xavier said, "She also told me once the shield was down all you did was go for Rogue and Gambit. You didn't let the animal get the best of you Logan."

"Didn't I?" Logan asked, "I went for Rogue and Gambit because that is what I wanted to do in the first place. Jean and the others weren't important to me, and with the shield gone there was nothing to stop me. But I don't know what I would have done if she'd been closer, or if one of the others got in the way."

"Until I'm sure, it is best to keep them at a distance. I can't hurt them that way." Logan said as looked down at his hands. He still had one glove on, the other on the floor of the Blackbird, but both of his hands still had blood on them. He was used to the sight, and yet at that moment it made him sick. "I'm going to wash up."

Xavier frowned as he watched the stocky man suddenly turned and walk away. His voice drifting through the room as the doors closed behind Logan, "I am afraid the distance may be in fact be the problem, and for more than just yourself, my friend."


	10. Chapter 10

Nearly six hours after arriving back at the mansion, the waiting room outside the infirmary was full. All of the X-Men that were in residence had gathered to wait for Beast to bring them news on the team's charming Cajun. Even those who had no real love for Remy, Warren being chief among them, had come down as a show of solidarity for the rest of the team.

They had grouped together in small clumps, talking softly amongst each other, offering reassurances and support. Scott was sitting next to Ororo on the couch, holding her hand for Jean while the red-head was assisting in the OR. Warren squeezed the Wind Rider's shoulder gently, "He's going to be fine Storm, you know that thief can get out of anything."

The blue eyed African reached up and patted Warren's hand, while Logan wanted to punch him in the face. He couldn't believe that even at a time like this the pompous ass couldn't say anything nice about the kid. Of course, even if he did layout Golden Boy, the jerk would probably have no clue why he'd done it, and therefore ruin the whole experice.

Logan shook his head, as he turned his attention to where Rogue was sitting with her adoptive brother Kurt. He'd been right about her having a headache when she woke up; her skin, were it wasn't bruised, was pale and she was still shaky when she moved. But instead of staying in bed like a sensible person and letting her body heal, she demanded to come here when she woke up four hours ago and been sitting in the same spot ever since.

Rogue wanted, no needed, to be with everyone, to have people around her while she waited to find out if her heart was going to be taken away. Logan could understand and respect that, but he still felt the need to protect her. He walked over to her, "Hey kid, you should probably go lay back down. You only got part of my healing factor you know, you need to rest."

"Ya know Ah can't." Rogue said looking up at him with tear stained, pleading green eyes. "Ah can't leave 'til Ah know if Remy's going ta be alright."

"Yeah Darlin' I know." Logan nodded, expecting that answer. "Can I get you something, water or something for that headache? This place is getting too crowded for me."

The corner of Rogue's mouth twitched up as she caught the irritated glare he sent toward Angel. The spoiled rich boy got on her last nerve too, so she completely understood Logan's attitude. "Preciate it surgha, Ah think mah head might just split open it's pounded so hard."

"Since we've already done that once tonight, I think I'll just grab you an aspirin." Logan said, his tone only half joking as he went to hunt up the pain killer.

He turned for the door, but just as Logan reached for the handle it swung open and nearly hit him. Logan jerked back, and a surprised blue face blinked down at him, "Oh Logan, I do apologize."

"No big deal Hank." Logan said his voice rougher then usual as he forced himself to relax the muscles that had bunched in preparation of an attack. "How's the kid?"

"Stabilized for the moment," Hank answered, and the room suddenly went still. "But I'm afraid his injuries were more extensive than was initially anticipated."

"How bad is it?" Scott asked his grip on Ororo's hand tightening unconscious.

"Honestly Scott, I'm amazed he was alive when you found him."

Ororo's eyes widen for a split second before she regained her regal composure, while Rogue made a sound suspiciously like a sob. Logan moved back to the southern girl's side. He still didn't touch her, but she leaned toward him, again taking the strength he offered.

"And now?" Logan voiced the question that was on everyone's minds.

Beast looked at Logan, before turning his sad golden eyes toward Rogue, "The piece of shrapnel was larger than it appeared, entering at an upward angle. Along with the internal hemorrhaging, it caused a tear along his diaphragm. The damage was repaired, but he still isn't breathing on his own."

The furry surgeon scanned the room, watching the various expressions on his friends' faces. Almost all of them looked shocked and concerned, while a few looked sad. But for Rogue, and the X-Men that had gone to retrieve Gambit, there was self-doubt. Each of them were suddenly replaying the night's events, trying to figure out if they could have done more.

Medically, Hank knew there wasn't, and what they had done for the boy was a small marvel. Still he knew there was nothing he could say that would make them believe that, so instead he said. "Though considering the tenacity the Cajun has already shown, I believe if Remy makes it through the next twenty-four hours he will survive."

"Can Ah sit with him?" Rogue asked.

"You should be in bed yourself Rogue." Beast said as he looked back at the girl, only to sigh. "But one of the chairs in recovery should do fine."

"Come meine schwester, I shall take you." Kurt said as he helped Rogue up.

Rogue looked back at Logan, an unspoken question in her eyes. Logan gave her a small nod, and Rogue allowed Kurt to draw her out of the room. A few of the others filtered out past Beast as well, until only he, Xavier, Scott, Ororo, and Logan were left.

No one was surprised when Xavier spoke, "Now that the other's are gone Henry, please tell us the rest."

Hank sighed, using one hand to rub at the headache behind his eyes. "While Jean and I were working, we noticed evidence of trauma to Remy's spine. There is severe swelling around the T11 through L3 vertebrae, and preliminary examines suggest that there is at least some loss of function to his lower extremities."

The room went dead for a moment, before Logan shook himself. "Whoa, loss of function? Are you saying Gumbo's paralyzed?"

"That is very likely the case." Beast answered solemnly.

"Goddess no." Ororo's voice was little more than a whisper, a tear braking free of her icy blue eyes.

Scott pulled her into a comforting embrace as the girl's iron clad composure crumbled. Xavier and Hank went to her as well, offering her soft words or touches as she cried for the man that was the closest thing to a brother she had. Logan however stood there as he tried to make sense of what McCoy had said.

Logan shook his head, it just couldn't be right. It just didn't fit. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, the athletic natural acrobat with more speed and agility then a pack of alley cats, paralyzed.

Logan looked at the closed door, his voice barely audible, "Rogue."


	11. Chapter 11

Logan doubted anyone noticed when he left the waiting room, but then he didn't care. He walked down the hall, following Rogue's scent to Remy's recovery room. Even before he opened the door his sensitive ears picked up the sound of crying, and Jean's gentle voice.

Logan hit the button and stepped inside. Both women turned to look at him, before Rogue suddenly flew to him and started crying. He wrapped his thick arms around the girl's slender waist holding her tight, as he looked over at Jean. _"You told her?"_

Jean nodded, as she answered telepathically. _"She would have found out sooner or later. I thought it would be easier if it was sooner than later."_

_"You're probably right." _Logan thought as he carefully turned the girl around and led her back to the recliner she'd left when he came in. _"The other's are still in the waiting room. Ororo could probably use her best friend right now, I'll handle this."_

_"Thank you Logan." _Jean smiled at him and he nodded, turning his attention to Rogue as Jean went to find her friend and husband.

Logan waited until Jean was out of the room, before he gently pushed Rogue out of his arms. Looking down at her, he frowned, "You know all this crying ain't good for you."

Rogue sniffed, as she used shaking hands try and whap away her tears. "Ah can't help it, do ya know, did he tell ya…"

"God this is all mah fault." Rogue cried as she buried her face in her hands as she started to rock back and forth.

"Whoa, hang on." Logan grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently to get her attention. "This ain't yer fault. There is no way you could of known what was goin to happen tonight."

"But Ah could have stayed at our table like he said, or left the club." Rogue said trying to make since of everything, trying to tell where she'd gone wrong. "Remy wouldn't have been in the club, wouldn't have gotten hurt, if Ah'd just left when the rest of the people."

"Maybe, maybe not." Logan growled, "You don't know that for sure. Sure there is a chance that things would be different if you had been on the street. Course there is just as good a chance Gambit would have gone back inside anyway to make sure the club was really empty, or to find out what caused the first explosion."

"You know how much that fool likes playing hero." Logan said gesturing behind him where Remy was laying oblivious to the conversation. "You are not responsible for what happened to him, and if he was awake right now he'd tell you the same damn thing. Now stop crying."

Logan's tone left no room for argument, even if at that moment Nightcrawler didn't materialize in a puff of sulfur scented smoke. Rogue sniffed back her tears as the German priest took in the room with quick eyes, and quicker understanding. Walking over to his sister he held out the glass of water he carried and two tiny white pills.

"Take these liebchen; they will help make you feel better." Kurt said smiled reassuringly.

Rogue looked between the two men in front of her, then past them to where Remy was laying. He looked so unlike himself that see almost started crying again. He wasn't supposed to be here, not like this.

His beautiful eyes were closed, his long auburn lashes in frighten contrast to the washed out color of his skin. There was a white squire of gauze over one eyebrow, another along his cheekbone, along with several small band aids covering his burns and cuts. But it was the two inch plastic tube typed at the corner of Remy's normally smiling mouth that made her stomach twist painfully.

Rogue knew that the tube was helping to keep him alive, and yet she hated it. She hated seeing Remy so weak that he needed a machine to breath for him. Hated knowing even if he woke up, he was never going to be the same. How could he be if he couldn't walk?

"Rogue." Logan's voice broke into Rogue's thoughts and she looked back at him. "Trust me Rogue, take the meds, and I swear everything is going to work out."

Rogue wanted to ask Logan how, how were things going to work out. But the look of utter confidence in his deep blue eyes made her believe him. She nodded, taking the pills from Kurt and throwing them into mouth.

"Drink this." Kurt offered the water again, and Rogue took it this time, draining half of it before passing the glass back to her brother.

Kurt smiled putting the glass aside and, perching on the arm of the chair beside her, pulled the upset girl into a hug. Logan stood up, walking around to the other side of the room to allow the family some privacy. Crossing his arms over his chest he leaned against the wall, standing guard over the room.

--X-X-X--

Kurt held Rogue about half an hour before the medication Hank told him to give her kicked in and she fell asleep. Once the fuzzy elf was sure she wasn't going to wake up if she was moved he carried her to the next room and put her to bed. Leaving Logan behind to keep watch over Remy.

Logan moved to the chair the siblings vacated and sat down. Stretching out he made himself comfortable as he listened to the steady rhythm of the machines hooked up to his friend. Looking over at Remy's beat-up face he signed, "You know kid I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. Worrying over you kids constantly is going to give me grey hair."

Logan laughed to himself, as he closed his eyes, "Hell, just look what it did to Chuck."

--X-X-X--

Logan didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, or how long he'd been out, but he was awake now. The sound of someone struggling had him on his feet immediately searching the darken room for the cause. When his eyes fell on the hospital bed that held Remy he cursed.

Rushing to the boy's side he grabbed the kid's hands and pulled them away from the breathing tube in his mouth. Remy started to trash harder, making gagging retching sounds. Doing his best to not hurt the boy as he tried to hold him still with one arm, Logan hit the emergency call button next to the head of the bed.

The rooms lights came on as Hank's muffled voice, he sounded as if he been asleep as well, came over the intercom. "Hello?"

"Damn it Hank get in here, Gambit's fighting the tube." Logan yelled into the intercom before turning his full attention to the Cajun. "Gambit. Gambit, listen to me kid."

"Listen you need to calm down." Remy turned wide terrified red on black eyes toward Logan. "That tube is there to help you Rem, if you keep this up yer going to choke yerself."

Remy's thrashing stopped, but he still trembled under Logan's hands as he tried to relax. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back into his pillow; anything to try and make the pain in his throat go away. He focused on Logan, on the sound of the older man's voice though he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying.

Logan mere presents meant a lot. It meant, though he felt like he'd been run over by a bus, that he was now safe with the X-Men. That meant he was in the med bay, and that the thing down his throat was really there to help him.

He'd nearly calmed down when a large hand touched his forehead. Remy's hand twitched to charge something, before he opened his eyes again and saw Beast standing above him. It was strange that having a giant blue panther staring down at you could actually be comforting.

Remy tried to say Hank's name forgetting momentary about the tube in his throat, before he gagged and winced. He heard a soft pop then hissing sound, as the pressure in his lungs left. He looked up at Beast again.

"It's alright Remy," Hank said, his deep voice adding to his calm bedside manner. "I'm just taking you of intubation, clearly you don't need it any longer, and I'm happy to remove that awful tube."

Remy's eyes told his friend he was happy about that idea too. Hank smiled down at him, knowing that the young Cajun would not like what was coming next. "I'm going to have to give you a shot that will numb the muscles in your neck. It will make the procedure much easier on both of us this way."

Remy's eyes said he wasn't sure about that but he blinked his consent. Again Hank smiled, this time patting him gently on the shoulder. "Excellent my friend, it won't be a minute. Logan would you talk with him while I get things prepared?"

"How I suppose to do that? He can't talk." Logan grumbled but took Hank's place near Remy's head so the boy wouldn't have to move to see him.

"Hey kid." Remy blinked at him, and Logan smirked. "You picked one hell of a way to celebrate your anniversary."

Remy's eyes grew wide as the memories of what put him here came back in a rush. Logan saw it, and realizing his mistake, instantly moved to correct it. "She's fine kid. She got a few bumps, and she's sleeping right now but Rogue's fine. Probably be in here again the moment she wakes up to pester you."

Remy's lip twitched and his eyes told Logan he couldn't wait for that to happen. Logan shook his head, but he smiled too, "Yer a masochist kid, you know that?"

Remy's answer was a mischievous glint that flashed in his red eyes. Hank cleared his throat and stepped back into the Cajun's field of vision again. "That wasn't exactly the conversation I intended you to have."

Logan shrugged, "You said talk to him; you didn't specify a topic."

"My mistake," Hank sighed, but he was smiling too as he looked down at Remy. "You're going to feel a small pinch, this is a very fast acting drug, so don't worry about it."

Remy blinked to show he understood, and prepared himself for getting a shot that didn't come. He looked up at Hank confused; blinking several times when he realized his vision was suddenly blurry. He flicked his eyes to Logan, to see if he knew what was happening. The scowl on the older man's face as he looked over at the blue doctor said he didn't, and it was the last thing Remy saw before he was pulled back into unconsciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

"What's happening?" Logan asked as he watched Remy's eyes grow unfocused, his own narrowing as he looked over at the doctor. "What the hell did you do?"

Hank held up his in surrender, "Peace my friend, I only gave him a mild sedative through his IV."

"You what… why?" Logan asked, confusion warring with anger for control of his voice. "You said that you were going to give him a shot to numb his throat not knock him out."

"I am aware of what I said, but it was necessary. Remy shouldn't have been awake yet." Hank explained trying to calm down Logan. He wasn't exactly afraid of Wolverine personally, so much as for the damage the shorter man could cause to his equipment.

"I don't understand, I thought him waking up so soon was a good thing."

"Yes, normally it would be." Hank agreed.

"Normally?" Logan's voice dropped an octave, his anger slowly winning. "What did you do Hank?"

Beast sighed, "He was dying Logan. I've been working for some time on a procedure to speed a body's natural healing. I've had great success in lab tests…"

"Stop," Logan growled, "Are you saying you're using Remy as a lab rat? You know how the kid feels about stuff like that. How could you experiment on him?"

"He. Was. Dying." Beast emphases each word as he snarled back. "I could have sewed up every wound he had, and he still would have died. If asking his permission was an option I would have, but his heart had already stopped twice on the operating table, and I made a call. I did what I had to Logan, to save his life."

Logan gripped the rail on the side of Remy's bed until the metal in his hands groaned. Rationally he knew Hank would never do anything that wasn't in the best interest of his patients. Dr. McCoy was practically the soul embodiment of the Hippocratic Oath. Still the animal inside him needed time to come to terms with it.

"Why knock him out again?"

Hank recognized the sound in Logan's voice. The fight was out of the Canadian for the moment, and it was safe to move again. He put on a pair of specially made rubber gloves and pulled a rolling table closer to the bed. As he carefully went about removing the endotracheal tube from Remy's throat, he answered Logan's question.

"Unlike your healing factor, the procedure works best when the subject is asleep."

"Why?" Logan asked as he instinctively reached down to hold Remy's head back when he started gagging as Hank pulled on the tube.

Beast glanced but at Logan, grateful and surprised by the assistance. "I assume it is because sleep is when the body naturally diverts energy to grow or regenerate cells. If Remy is to receive the full benefit of treatment he needs to be unconscious while it works."

The moment the tube was free, even under sudation, Remy started to cough. Logan gently kept him still against the mattress, miracle medical procedure or not the kid still had a back injury. A thought suddenly occurred to him, "Will this thing fix his spine?"

Hank met Logan's eyes; the look in the golden cat-like gaze said he too had thought along the same lines. It also said that he had not come up with a satisfactory answer. "I'm not sure Logan; I've never tested it for that. The nervous system is complicated at best, at worst it is a complete mystery. At the moment all we can do is wait and see."

Logan looked down at the Cajun. His coughing fit was over and he was sleeping quietly again. "How long are you going to keep him out?"

Hank shrugged his large shoulders, as he started cleaning up, and arranging equipment. "I need to run some tests to be sure, but considering how quickly he regained consciousness, I'd say six to eight hours at the most."

"Will you know if it worked on his back by then?"

"I will certainly have a better answer."

"Alright," Logan nodded, "When wakes up again Rogue should be with him. Remy will need her there when he finds out the news, whatever it is."

Out of the corner of his eye Hank watched Logan with curious surprise, as the notoriously rough man reached down and took Remy's hand in a comforting manner. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the other man act like that. Wolverine's touch seemed almost tender.

Unsure of how to respond to this revelation, Hank cleared his throat again and Logan jerked away from the Cajun like he'd been burnt. The doctor pretended not to notice anything amiss as he said, "Some of the scans are very sensitive, I'm afraid you'll have to step out for a while."

"No problem," Logan nodded, "You want me to stick around outside in case you need help with something?"

"That shouldn't be necessary, why don't you try to get some sleep yourself?"

"Yeah, or may be a beer." Logan said as he turned and gladly left the room.

--X-X-X--

The moment Logan stepped out of the elevator on the main floor of the mansion his ears where instantly bombarded with the sounds of children running back and forth to classes. He reached out and grabbed a boy with mousy looking hair as he ran by. The kid gulped and turned a pair of brown eyes that were about three sizes larger than normal up at him.

Logan wondered if the kid's eyes made him look this terrified or if it was just a reaction to being grabbed by him. "What time is it kid?"

"T… t… twelve-thirty?"

Logan arched an eyebrow at the boy, "That a question or an answer Bub?"

The boy swallowed hard, "An… an answer, Mister Logan, sir?"

He rolled his eyes at the boy, and letting go of his arm Logan watched the kid nearly tripped over his own feet running over to his friends. He shook his head, as he heard one of the children ask, "Holy crap Specs, that's The Wolverine, man what did you do?"

Clearly my reputation is still intact, Logan thought as more people started questioning the big-eyed kid on his apparent brush with death. He sighed as he walked away. He really needed that beer now.

--X-X-X--

The remains of Logan's six pack lunch sat on the nightstand near his bed when the phone started to ring. Logan reached, without opening his eyes, for the button to turn on the speaker. He was partly amazed when he managed to push it without knocking anything over. "Yeah?"

"Did Ah wake ya?"

"No," Logan lied as the sound of Rogue's voice on the other end of the line had him sitting up. "It's okay Darlin', what's up?"

"Hank said Remy should be waking up soon, and Ah thought maybe…"

Rogue's voice trailed off, but Logan understood what she was trying to say. "I'll be right there."

"Thank ya." Logan could almost hear the relief in the girl's voice as she hung up the phone.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he pulled on his boots and looked at the time on his alarm clock. It was nearly seven o'clock. Nearly twenty-four hours ago Remy had been waiting for Rogue to come down the stairs for a date. Now Rogue was waiting for Remy to wake-up after nearly dying.

Logan shook his head as he picked up the shirt he'd hung on the back of his desk chair. "So is the life of an X-Man."

--X-X-X--

The gang is all here, Logan thought as he walked into the recovery room. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Professor X where gathered together near the foot of Remy's bed, while Rogue and Kurt stood together next to the Cajun's side, and Beast stood opposite them fiddling with some of the medical equipment. The group all turned to look at him and he nodded as he moved to the far side of the room.

No one said anything about his choice of position, except Rogue who frowned at him. Logan just shook his head, as he leaned back and crossed his arms. The message was clear; he was there if she needed him, but otherwise he was staying out of the way.

Rogue understood his need for distance, it was one of the things they had in common, and so she nodded. Besides just having Logan in the room made her more comfortable. While Kurt could make her feel relaxed, with his sweet and gentle brotherly affections, Logan made her feel safe.

He was strong and steady, like a rock that would hold you up when everything else turned to quick sand. In a lot of ways Rogue thought of Logan as the father she could barely remember. He could be gruff and rude, and sometimes the biggest asshole in the world, but as Remy would say, when the chips where down you could always count of him to cover the bet.

That thought drew Rogue's eyes back down to her sleeping lover, and she smiled. She gently used her gloved fingers to brush Remy's long bangs back from his eyes, as she whispered, "Come on surgha, everybody's here now. It's time ta wake up."

Several seconds past as Rogue continued to tenderly touch Remy's face, or hands, coxing him awake. Soon the Cajun's long lashes fluttered and his red eyes blinked up at the girl. His voice was raw, but unmistakable as he smirked a little, "Dat's a sight to wake-up to, you miss me cher?"


	13. Chapter 13

Rogue didn't know whether to laugh or cry so she did both, a wayward tear slipped down her cheek as she chuckled. Placing her fingers against Remy's lips she kissed the back of her hand, before pulling back to frown at him. "Don't ya eva scare me like that again, ya hear."

"Oui chére, Remy hear you." Remy nodded as he brought his hand up to touch the ends of Rogue's stain hair near the nearly faded bruise on her cheek. "You okay?"

Rogue nodded as took Remy's hand in hers and brought it close to her heart. "Of course Ah am surgha, and now that yer awake Ah'm even better."

Ororo moved closer, laying a hand on Remy's shin. "We are all glad to have you back brother."

Remy lifted his head slightly to look past Rogue to the beautiful African goddess. His eyes glinted with a suspicious light as he traced the line of Ororo's chocolate brown shoulder to the long fingered hand. Then very slowly he looked at each of the other faces around him.

He flashed the room his trademark cavalier smile, "Da X-Men decided to throw me a party, I'm flattered mes amis. What's the occasion?"

Remy's caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Hank moved up to his bed, pressing a button the bed lifted until the Cajun was mostly sitting up. As it did so the young man's expression turned less jovial.

Remy looked at Hank, who in turned met his gaze with carefully guarded gold eyes. They faced each other, the Cajun waiting for an explanation as the doctor tried to find the right words to do so. It wasn't that Beast wasn't used to giving out bad news, regrettable it was part of his job, but as Remy looked at him he suddenly lost his voice.

Silence stretched out, until Remy finally looked back at Ororo's hand resting on his leg. "I can't feel your touch Stormy."

Ororo gasped, pulling her hand away a look of sadness and horror crossing her face before she hid it. Remy again looked at his friends again. They had suddenly become very embarrassed, meeting his eyes a brief second before dropping their gaze. Even Rogue, who was squeezing his hand to the point of almost being painful, would not look at his face instead she busied herself with straightening invisible wrinkles in his blanket.

Only when Remy looked across the room at Logan did anyone look back. The older man's dark blue eyes didn't hold pity or grief as they watched him. Rather he seemed to be waiting, wondering what the Cajun's next move was going to be.

Remy kept his eyes on Logan as he asked, "Is it permanent?"

The Cajun's question broke whatever spell had fallen over the room and Hank found his tongue. "It is too early to say definitively, there is still a great deal of swelling in the affected area. When it has gone down I can run more through tests."

Remy nodded, "Den is it temporary?"

"I can't say…" Hank started again only to be cut off.

"Guess!" Remy's shout caused the people closes to him to twitch in surprise. His moods sometimes shifted quickly but it was usually more toward sulking quite rather than angry shouting. At that moment, even with IV's and bandages, the Cajun's eyes flashed and he looked truly frightening.

"Take a guess." Remy said very slowly, his voice empty of his accent. "What are the odds that the Professor and I will be getting matching wheelchairs?"

"Remy," Xavier's fathering voice filled the room but it did little to sooth the Cajun.

"No," Remy shook his head, pulling his hand from Rogue's grip. He suddenly didn't want to be touched, even by her. "I don't need speeches right now Professor, just answers."

Hank looked at Xavier, who only nodded. Taking a deep breath he gave the young man what he asked for, "Going off preliminary testing only, and I remind you this is only a very rough and completely premature estimate, there is a ninety percent the paralysis will be permanent."

Remy nodded as he leaned back against his pillow, and closed his eyes. The heat of anger spent he sighed, "D'accord."

Again silence filled the room, until very tentatively Rogue reached down and touched Remy's hand. Remy opened his eyes and looked at her. She swallowed, "Ya know whatever happens that we're yer friends, and we're here for ya."

Remy watched her eyes, deep green beautiful eyes, and felt cold. He didn't need pity, didn't want it, not from Rogue. Still he smiled faintly, as he turned his hand and intertwined their fingers. "Oui Rogue, I know. Remy 'preciate it cher, mais dis a lot to take in non?"

"We understand Gambit." Scott said and Remy almost laughed at him.

There was no way the Boy Scout could understand what Remy was going through, and to prove it he continued to talk. "We just wanted you to know that we are here to help anyway we can. We're a team, and the X-Men take care of their own, no matter what."

"Oui, mon Captain, X-Men stick together." Remy turned his smile to the rest of the team, letting his charm mask his true thoughts.

X-Men take care of their own, Summers said. What he failed to realize was Remy, if in fact he ever truly had been part of the team, he wasn't any longer. Gambit was as dead as the feeling in the Cajun's numb legs. Still Remy smiled at the people around him, wishing they would all just leave him alone.

Oddly enough Logan's voice suddenly projected Remy's desire, as he spoke for the first time since coming into the room. "That's all great, but how about we start by giving the kid some space."

Everyone turned to look at Logan as if they'd all forgotten he was there, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "After the night Gumbo just went through, and this; ya got to figure he might be a little tired and need some breathing room to think."

Everyone in the room blinked at him, clearly shocked by the gruff man's sudden insight into a world that didn't involve killing or booze. Logan considered getting irritated by that, but mentally shrugged it off. After all that was the image he spent most of his time trying to project.

Still Logan noticed Remy's gaze was especially intense, and he saw the wheels in the boy's head turning rapidly. The Canadian wasn't surprised by that, the kid was always thinking of something, he only worried what those thoughts might consist of. His worry only increased when Remy smirked at him before faking a yawn.

Everyone turned back to Remy as he gave another slightly bigger yawn, wincing when it actually hurt. The fact that he didn't have to lie about that oddly making him feel better as he said, "Wolverine be right, Remy not feeling all dat great. Maybe I get a little more shut eye, we talk later oui?"

Hank turned into the concerned physician immediately, "Of course, we can't have you wearing yourself out so we'll go. We all want you to recover, and rest is excellent medicine."

"Merci Beast." Remy bowed his head to the big cat. He might be angry with the world at the moment but Hank was really a good man, and good doctor. And he hoped that McCoy would understand that deep down he really didn't blame him for anything.

"We'll visit again soon brother." Ororo said, her hand reaching out to touch him only to hesitantly pull back. She looked at Remy, her icy blue eyes asking a question neither would voice.

Remy shook his head, Ororo knew him so well sometimes, and he gave her a genuine but slightly sad smile. "Sure t'ang Stormy, I not goin' nowhere for a while yet."

Ororo frowned, not completely satisfied with his answer but it would do for the interim. She nodded to the young Cajun, then placing her hand on the Professor's shoulder turning with him toward the door. Jean and Scott followed suit as Kurt touched Rogue's arm.

Rogue looked at him, "I shall wait outside for you ja?"

Rogue nodded, watching as her brother and Logan left together leaving only her and Hank in the room with Remy. She turned back to her lover and tried to smile. "Ya sure ya want me to go?"

Remy knew she wanted him to tell her no, to ask her to stay with him. Hell, he even wanted to, and was surprised that he just couldn't. During all the worst times in his life when he'd craved someone, anyone, to just be there with him. And now that he had someone, the woman he loved with all his soul holding his hand, all he wanted was to be left alone.

Remy, are an idiot, he thought to himself as he brought Rogue's hand up to his lips. He kissed her knuckles through the leather over her glove as he looked up at her. "Je suis désolé cher, I just need some time."

Rogue bit the inside of her lip, as her insides knotting painfully. No matter what Logan said to her last night, she couldn't help feeling like this was all her fault. And the way Remy's voice sounded made her wonder if he felt the same. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the real no-coming-back-from-this end of their lives together.

She swallowed, shifting his fingers to touch Remy's cheek. He placed another kiss in her palm, and she smiled. Rogue opened her mouth, intending on telling him that she loved him, what came out was, "Ah'll see ya tomorrow then surgha."

"Dors bien mon cher." Remy returned Rogue's smile and watched her walk out of his room. He sighed; leaning heavily on his pillow he closed his eyes.

Hank frowned as he looked at his apparently exhausted friend, kicking himself for what had just transpired. "I apologize for that, I should have realized it would tire you out, and given you the news in private."

Remy didn't know what to say to the other man so he just shook his head. He heard the motors in the bed kicking in seconds before he was lowered back down into a prone position. He unconsciously attempted to stay sitting only to grit his teeth when he realized he was doing it and failing.

"If you need anything there is a call box right here." Hank said, and Remy felt cool plastic brush the side of his hand but didn't open his eyes. "The top button goes directly to my communicator, other than that it is just like any regular phone. Feel free to call anyone you like."

Remy nodded and listened to Hank's sigh as the big man turned and walked out. Finally alone, he suddenly felt moisture run down the side of his face. Opening his eyes he stared at the ceiling and simply cried. "Que vais-je faire?"

--X-X-X--

Logan was waiting for Hank the minute he left Remy's room. "Well?"

Hank's startled reaction to Logan's unexpected appearance in the hall would have been comical under any other circumstances. As it was neither man laughed, as Beast held a hand over his heart and asked, "Well what?"

"You said you would know after your test if that thing of yours was going to help the kid. Did it?" Logan asked.

"Logan you were just in there." Hank gestured to the closed door behind him. "You heard what I told Remy."

"Yeah," Logan nodded, "I heard you give him a ten percent chance of walking again. What I want to know is that ten percent because of your healing thing or not?"

"I can't…"

"Damn it Hank." Logan growled.

Hank frowned, irritated with being cut off yet again, still he answered. "It is possible. The amount of swelling in his spine has dropped considerably over the last twenty-four hours, more so than I would have expected without the treatment. However I have no evidence that there is actual repairing of damaged nerve cells."

"Could it though?" Logan asked. "What if your treatment just needs more time? It sped up the Cajun's healing by what four maybe five days already, but a back injury can take months, even years to heal right?"

Hank nodded, Logan had a point, still, "If they ever heal at all yes."

Logan waved his hand as if that didn't matter. "Normally how long would you want to wait before you'd have a real idea of how bad something like this was?"

"I can't just give out numbers like that; every incident, every patient, is different." Hank said exasperated, as he faced Logan. He knew how the other man felt, knew that he was only asking these questions because of his concern for Remy. He knew it, because he felt it too.

Hank sighed, "I wish I had a better answer Logan, any answer, but I just don't. The procedure could work and allow Remy to walk again, or it might just cause the swelling to go down and still leave him paralyzed. There is simply no way of telling."

"You need to tell Remy about the procedure, he needs to know." Logan watched the fear and uncertainty pass under the doctor's golden eyes.

"Even if all it is, is a false hope?" Hank asked.

"Sometimes a false hope is better than no hope at all, you know that." Logan said, "Just tell him Hank; let him make that choice."


	14. Chapter 14

Remy held up the call box Hank had left with him, studying the key pad for the millionth time in the last hour. He wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but he knew it was late. Most of the mansion's residents would probably be asleep.

He should be asleep too. He was tired enough and Remy certainly hurt enough to want to sleep for the next twenty years. Yet every time he closed his eyes all that he did was stare at the inside of his eyelids.

"Jus' dial da number already." Remy scolded himself, "If der's no answer, den bien, you put da phone down and go to sleep."

Remy nodded, and started to dial only to stop half way through the six digit code. "Merde, you coward!"

Remy cursed himself as he dropped his hands to his sides and looked up at ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he make a simple phone call? "Cause it not simple dat why."

"Den again, notin ever been simple for dis Cajun." Remy said to himself as he lifted the box once more. This time he punched in all of the numbers and waited as the speaker on the boxed beeped to let him know the line was ringing.

Remy counted four beeps before a deep gravelly voice answered, "What?"

Remy suddenly forgot what he was going to say as he blinked at the call box, surprised that he'd actually got answer. That was until a low growl vibrated the device in his hand, "Logan mon ami?"

"Cajun?" Logan's voice changed, instead of annoyance there was nothing but concern. "You okay, is something matter?"

Remy smirked, sorely tempted to ask the other man what possibly could be the matter. But instead of flippancy he merely said, "I need to talk to you mon ami. Could ya come down?"

"Course kid." Logan answered without hesitation. "Do you want me to grab one of the others too?"

"Non," Remy shook his head even though no one could see him. "Jus' want to talk to you, d'accord?"

"Yeah okay, I'll be there in a minute."

"Merci Logan." Remy listened as the line went dead on the other end and sighed. He sat the call box aside. The hardest part of his plan was done, now he just needed to wait for Logan.

--X-X-X--

The serious tone in Remy's voice worried Logan and, while he walked, he didn't waste time getting down to the med lab. He pressed the button to the kids room and went directly to the kid's bedside the minute the door opened. Again he asked, "You okay?"

Remy shook his head as he looked up at the dark haired, dark eyed man and swallowed. He'd been wrong, the phone call wasn't the hardest part. "I wanted to ask you a favor, one that I can't ask anyone else."

Logan felt his stomach drop. All traces of the bayou where gone from Remy's voice; his tone was quite and thoughtful. The accent was part of the kid's charm, and quite and thoughtful would never two words associated with the Ragin' Cajun. There was only one reason Remy would talk this way. He wanted to make sure there would be no excuse for misunderstanding.

Which meant whatever Remy wanted to ask, Logan probably didn't want to hear. Still Logan found himself nodding, "You can ask me anything Rem, you know that."

Remy lips turned into a half smile, he and Logan had had their differences in the past but it didn't stop the older man from being his friend. Perhaps one of the only true friends the Cajun thief ever had, which made what he was about to do as equally difficult as it was simple. "I want you…"

Remy paused with a shake of his head, as he tried to find a better way to ask his question. "If I'm going to be paralyzed, I need your help."

Logan could feel his heart stop; he knew that Remy wasn't asking about building a ramp up to their local bar. Still this was something that shouldn't be left up to interpretation. Swallowing hard Logan met the boy's red on black eyes; hoping to God he was wrong about this. "Help to do what exactly Rem?"

"To end it," Remy said unflinchingly as he watched the man above him. "I want you to help me end this miserable life."

The world tilted violently on its axis, treating to throw Logan off his feet. He reached out and grabbed the rail of Remy's hospital bed to keep himself upright. With his head bowed he stared at his knuckles as they turned white from lack of blood flow, while the Cajun's words beat against his skull like the Juggernaut on a rampage.

"Why me?"

Logan didn't realize he'd asked the question aloud until Remy's lilting voice flowed around him again. "Because you're the only one that understands; you know what this means for me. And if you do it then it will be clean, quick so there isn't more pain than necessary. I don't want pain Logan, and you can make sure of it."

"Damn it kid!" Logan growled out his curse as he spun away from the bed. He couldn't look at Remy, couldn't look at the kid's tear wet trusting eyes. He started to pace the small room like a caged animal as his mind rushed back to another place and time.

The grass fields below Mt. Fuji where red with the blood of the fallen as losing battle raged not far away. Logan knelt, his own numerous injuries adding to the blood and gore around him. Though it made little of an impression on him, his healing factor was already working to repair the damage as he carefully held a wounded friend.

Removing the samurai's helmet and face mask Logan assessed Rikuto's condition. The man's left arm was obviously broken, and a deep gash ran over the opposite hip and thigh, all of which might be healed with the proper care. But it was the defeat that shown out in the man's dark brown eyes that made him realize his friend would not leave the field alive.

The battle is lost dear friend.Rikuto's words were hauntingly clam through the chaos that surrounded them.

There will be another. Logan's Japanese was rough with his growling accent as he replied, hoping against knowledge that it was true.

Rikuto and his clan had known before taking the field their forces had little to no chance against the obsession. Still Bushido, the code of the warrior by which they lived, would not allow for anything less of them than to fight, no matter how hopeless. Honor until death, it was more than words to Rikuto; it was truly a way of being.

Whether Logan agreed or not with the samurai, he could respect the strength of other man's beliefs. Even that though, made Rikuto's next words painful to hear. For you my friend yes, for me... Take my sword Logan, and grant me your strength one last time.

Logan bowed his head, he could not look at his friend because then the man would see the tears he was fighting not to shed. The importance of being asked as a second was not lost on Logan, and though it pained him to do so he could not refuse Rikuto. He could not dishonor his friend's strength and commitment with his own weaknesses.

Logan did not speak; his throat was too tight to allow the act even if he tried, as he nodded his acceptance and helped the samurai into a kneeling position. Rikuto held his katana out to him with his good arm. This blade will serve you now, my friend. May you master it better than I.

Logan took the offering with the reverence it deserved, bowing to his friend one last time before standing. He watched his friend closely as he unsheathed his tanto and brought it almost lovingly to his abdomen. Logan's downward swing was timed with Rikuto's plunging dagger, insuring the samurai's passing from this world was as swift as possible.

Whether the memory was true or one of the many that had been planted in his head, it still had the power to leave Logan shaking as it ended. He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his dark unruly hair, fingers trying to push away the pain, loss, and frustration that fill his head. "God damn it kid."

Logan cursed again but it held less venom then before; and though it wasn't exactly consent to Remy's request, it was certainly not a refusal. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from his friend, surprised that the realization made his chest hurt. He should be pleased, after all this is what he'd wanted wasn't it?

Remy bit the corner of his lip to keep his tears from falling again, mumbling thanks he didn't feel. "Merci mon ami."

"Don't." Logan said as he lifted his head and glared over at the hospital bed. Seeing the back of Remy's head his mix of emotions burned together to a comforting anger.

His hands closed over Remy's shoulders before he realized he'd moved, as Logan forced the Cajun to turn his head and look at him. He wanted desperately to shake some sense into the kid, but as much as his rage rode him, the calmer part of his mind reminded him that his friend was hurt. So he settled instead for digging his fingers into the boy's thick muscles.

Remy flinched trying to move his right shoulder out of Logan's grip as the man growled down at him. "I don't want your god damn thanks Cajun. I don't want anything to do with this fucked up idea of yours."

Remy stopped flinching, the pain in his shoulder mild compared to the shock and confusion of seeing tears barely restrained in Wolverine's blue eyes. "You're... you're not going to..."

Remy stammered, again not a common thing for a boy with the gift of gap, and yet it helped Logan reign in most of his anger. The kid was scared, in pain, and confused; he knew that. But he also knew that deep down the Cajun was a fighter, and all he really had to do now was remind the kid of that.

Logan shook his head, easing off his grip and backing up slightly from the edge of the bed. "I didn't say I wouldn't help Gumbo, I just got a condition before I officially agree."

"What kind o' condition homme?" Remy's red eyes flashed with suspicion as his accent came back.

Logan took both as a good sign. If the boy was set on his plan he wouldn't have anything to lose would he? "First you need to talk to Hank."

"Talked to Henri, you where der."

"Yeah I was." Logan nodded, "Heard him say there were more tests he needed to run before he would know for sure whether this was a permanent thing or not."

"You talk to Hank, and let him run his tests, all of his tests. If when he's done, they say you're never going to walk again then I'll do what you asked." He'd do it but Logan would be damned if he would say it.

He wasn't about to test fate by saying the words out loud. Superstitious for a man with no faith? Maybe, but Logan would worry about that later; right now he had more important things on his plate.

"Course those tests are going to have to prove to me there is no chance that you'll ever recover. I _only _do it if you're completely paralyzed and there is _absolutely no_ chance that you'll walk again."

"Everyone don' get a healin' fac'der mon ami." Remy's tone was annoyed, and it made Logan smile.

Annoyed was good, anything better then the self-pity that had been there when the idiot asked Logan to kill him. Besides, "You might be surprised kid, talk to Hank."

Remy frowned at Logan's cryptic comment, still he couldn't stop the stirring of hope in his gut as he met and held his friend's gaze. "This pretty long odds mon ami, non?"

"Long odds, for high stakes." Logan confirmed with a smirk. "What's the matter Cajun thought you liked to gamble?"

Remy's eyes flashed again, this time with his first honest grin since waking up and hearing the news about his legs. "Remy know no beder kin' o' game M'suir. Maybe I don' fold before de res' o' da hand dealt, oui?"

"Sounds damn good to me Rem. And you have my word I'll be there whatever the cards say." Logan assured Remy, patting the kid on the shoulder where he was sure his fingers had left burses. "Until then Gumbo it's late and you need to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning okay?"

Remy nodded to his friend. Watching him until older man's hand was on the door before calling out to him. "Logan?"

Logan turned back to frown at the boy. "Yeah?"

"Merci." Relief was clear in Remy's voice as he smiled.

"You're welcome Rem." Logan returned the Cajun's smile with one of his own then watched as the younger man closed his eyes and turned his head toward the wall with a sigh. "Goodnight kid."


End file.
